
^ V 


?• .i!!\\I 5 .^» '^<i^ o 

^^^*^ « 
* •V ^ ■* 







/ J’ ^ • 

\' <1^ '"•'i* .0^ 

j-i’'^ ‘•:^. '^'#> C®^ ' -o 

'° ^°*- ’ 

o hO' o ^ # , 1 * ^0 

V ^ ->P * 


'* -.0 >. c>, .oO >, . 




' ■ V .<=.’^ 



A'' ^ * 0^0 

Cp 

« 

^ ^ '»• 

^ A <^ ' 0 . 7 '* jfi' 

''^O ^ ^ . o *> o 

■^o v^ 0 ^ “ 




A •* 

'O . » - 

- 

flijo* ’^ 0 ^ 

5 ^ • <vr O ^ ^0 ^ ^ 

’“ ^ ®-^ *"’* \«’^ * 
V f**®-- AV ^ V • '' • o-r 

/^VaV '^rf. c-r .‘^Stefe'. •#>. 




IT I t 


^ • 

4 - ,V 

7 


4 cy - 
4 ^V 






■-i* *^0 **. 

• ■ %. "•r^‘ -V?- o 

O V e • • m 

Lv ^ av ♦ jA 80 yk^ '^r. cl^ ^ 


7 "*o^ 

lO V", 

7 " aO o 

0^0 






♦ 4 ? . 

* .V " 







.o'" 0 ®.!®*, ’o 



• • > V ^ 

A^ • I ' » ♦ 

*<» .\N 4 j^Ai//P2-. _ *3^ 


o • X 


^ K 


<> 'O . * - 

'♦ 

b!’' 

^ ^ 4 

0 ^ 

p"*' V, 

> aO %* 7 >L% ^ V -»*o. ^ 

4 , *■ 





# I ^ 





♦ 4 p • 

'.'» .<^ ^ >*» 









• o - < V ^ ' 


o 

O hO^ ^ ^ ♦•!■•*' 










, I 

f 


. s 




* l 4 ^ 

« 

1 






. A. 


I > i 


:'v.- 


.1 


r-" 

3 ^f: 

5 . 




.• ■ • * * y’ 


^ ■>»m' 


•s sv , ► 

• i . ^ . < ' >4 

4 “ .\ 


>\;;.V.. •;* ’•••' -• • • ' V* ^ • I-' 

*^ *!*'■* ■*. -••*.■ -■ '.'r. ■'■ 

.I t f '“'•^ * • *♦ ^'. ' ‘ ' ' • *'• i - . . ' >■ ‘*iV * ♦» 


.'♦ . 

I- ' ' 

. t . 4 I « 


1*1 


' :.^ 
X ' 

t 


/ ^ 1 - . ,» 


IT* 

;.•^ * 


V- 


I » 




A - 




•'ll 


>’-K' 


Hg 


> • « 

/ 


\ •> 

, . k ^ 


K .» 








4'^ 




i ?/ 


■«• - 


I < 




•» 

1 • 




4 - 

r» 


f, . ^ 1 ’, 

. « «. e 

1 

• *• ■' ‘ 

^ l^• 


I « 


' • 




• • 




f 
> 


f 

Df • 

.\4',*" 

^ *9 

: ’ 

V \* A'*'--. 

9 . » r 

•* « * 

. i 

( > 

\ iV , 

•'•V- vv 

^ ^ * • 

ij-:, V 

ft 1 J 

1 4« -'J •• 

. ; " '-.v 

iXf i 
“■ ;* • 

A* ‘ • 

.>:^*;* • ' 

• 

# 

r 

1 » • 4 

• 


' I 


r « 


• • t * I 

• - 4 * 




% 4 

I 


« 4 


I ' 


• < 


I t 




* 


r^J' -'Vfi 

•i 


4 ff 




( 




' n 

-C« 


: 

4 

1 

j 

• 1 

4 


rA'.* • 


• I 


l' • - ■?. . ^ ^ 


\ 

4* 


*• 


» 


^ I 


•4 


1 4 ( 


• > • 


- 1 


% 

0 

« 


• 


4 

.* 


i 


j . 


V r* 




•4‘ 


. % 


■MM -^ : : '■ ' -■ • ■ ■ 

^ 1 ■.*'»»• '- f* •»/,••. 

» • - \ ^ ^ » I i / ^ • . 


■: 


f 

« 

..f 


’» . 


■y W «■ 


.. W 




♦ 




\ . 


i * 


# , 




f • 


..•Vi 


' - - I ,* 


iV 


IV. 


jrvv 


.*•'■ ’*2 


•• ^ • 

.^• 

. V-- ' ■ 


V. ' 


it ‘ ■:■ ■ 
‘ 'f". ’'■: 

r / « • 




»i* 


r -- 


>i 


. y 


t 

i 


i . ' 


c 


4 » 


> ! _ 


I » 


.1 • • 


u . 

4 • • i 


i 4 %' 

» 

• u 

t <• 

n * 




f < 
••• 


.i'!' .. 


f ' 

A 


' 


•j 


• • 
> * 




I 


ft 




• • 


\ 


4S‘ 

.4 


& 




A* 


• ^ ’ 

9 • • 


JfJfi'. ■« . 

IV M>" 


♦ H 

« 


■# i: . 


'ftt ♦> 

'■-• •' ■ 


" ' : 

, i V 




. • ' • * I • ’ 

• ♦ A* • ^ ' 

. . t 

V 


r, 

f 





' • A ' • • I J 


. : ‘ 'vx. 's • .^• 

■V<» ' ‘ ■ • 


.» 


^#*1 1; 

I • 


f 

t' ' 




'4 1 


• IX ’ • 

A ■;■/. • '. ■ 

• * . ft • • 

if'''.. '■' 

.• » . A 

A '* n 


« A 


4i* ^ 


< V 





>».‘f 


/. 

> ^ 




* r 


.f . 

r * ^ 


i 




V 4 • M ' 


• 


4,* 


ft ♦ 


.i 


tJ 


? •it 

^^''>JPl^' ^ f >. 

' - ■• “ \ 


I 


• i / 


ft# 


Iv-A 


A . 




f • * 

: k .fc, r. 

• - ) 

. I 

* \ . 


'^V.' . 


‘ - r;.. 




j: 


» # 




I ' I 


\ *1 


r.-- "., 


V4‘ 


/ *' 


i f 

t 

r 


4« 

y 

.*• / 


»/ 

.'I 


< « 


I « 


‘I 

.'y? S!' . -. 


■ ^ 


ft « 


I 


r I 


ft ft 




ft"r 

A 






» . • 


l« V 




I. 

ft 

/f 4 


L/ ^ 


I 

W. 


• > 

.• «. 

••t '• 


if 

I 




V 


s 

I » 


<. . 


• A» • , 


r' • . 


' V - ‘ V 


> • 

t 4 


\ 

• 4 








\ 


.i 


I 




<.i ^.. / 


#• ♦ 


► . 

I .. 


p_f A'J>LI 


. iV ' 


• 4* 


'*, \ 

► » 




♦ 


»( /f 


# ' ft 

/ ft • • 


■ * I 


Vk 


4 # 




/ 


, 1 ! 


L A 


' -ft ^ - 


fm * 


f • 

‘ ft * ^ ft* 

-i- 


• I : 


i« 


* 4 


:■(< 


f 

\' 









THE BAND PLAYING AT THE BATTLE OF SAN JUAN. FrouHspi. 



THE 


YOUNG BANDMASTER 


OR 

CONCERT STAGE AND BATTLEFIELD 


CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHILL 

AUTHOR OF “WHEN SANTIAGO FELL,” “A SAILOR BOY WITH 
DEWEY,” “OFF FOR HAWAII,” “GUN AND SLED,” “RIVAL 
BICYCLISTS,” “YOUNG OARSMEN OF LAKEVIEW,” 

“LEO, THE CIRCUS BOY,” ETC., ETC. 



> 



NEW YORK 

THE MERSHON COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 

■ I . 


17704 


Library of Congress 

Two CoriES Received 

JUL 11 1900 

C»f,. igitt entry 

FIRST COPY. 

2nd Copy Delivered to 

ORDER DIVISION 

IllL 12 1900 


YZr 


Copyright, 1899, 
By N. L. MUNRO. 


Copyright, 1900, 

BY 

THE MERSHON COMPANY. 


PREFACE. 


'‘The Young Bandmasters^ is a complete 
story in itself, but forms the fourth volume of a 
line of books issued under the title of the “ Flag 
of Freedom Series.” 

In the former volumes of this series I told of 
the doings of several boys in Cuba, in the Philip- 
pines, and in the Hawaiian Islands. In the 
present work the scene is shifted back to the 
United States and to Cuba. The hero is forced 
to make his own way in the world, and, having a 
strong taste for music, becomes a musician, and 
joins, first a theatrical company, and then a regu- 
lar band, of which he, later on, becomes the band- 
master. This is at the time of the War with 
Spain, and caught by the spirit of the times and 
finding himself landed in Cuba, Paul Graham can- 
not resist the temptation to join the ranks of the 
military musicians; and with one of our leading 
military bands he goes with the army of inva- 
sion to take part in the downfall of Santiago. 

My object in writing this tale was primarily to 
show some of the ins-and-outs of life among 
musicians in general and the workings of a con- 


iv 


PREFACE, 


cert company while ‘‘ on the road/’ as it is popu- 
larly termed, and also to show what a patriotic 
boy of a musical turn can do toward inspiring 
soldiers when advancing to the perils of the fir- 
ing line. That the drum, the bugle, and the 
band play an important part on nearly every bat- 
tlefield is a truth for which any old army officer 
will vouch, and the patriotic strains from a band 
have been known to turn more than one seeming 
defeat into victory. 

Once more thanking my young friends for 
their cordial reception of my former books, I 
place this volume in their hands, hoping they 
will derive from it much of both pleasure and 
profit. 

Captain Ralph Bonehill. 

March i, igoo. 


CONTENTS 


chapter 


PAGB 

I. 

A Row AND Its Result, . , • 

• • 

I 

II. 

Paul Comes to a Determination, 

. . 

8 

III. 

Paul Makes a Move, . 

. 

i 6 

IV. 

The Young Cornetist, 

. 

23 

V. 

A Leap in the Dark, 

, 

32 

VI. 

An Unpleasant Discovery, 

. . 

40 

VII. 

Paul Makes a New Acquaintance, 

. 

48 

VIII. 

An Engagement in Boston, 

. 

56 

IX. 

A Blow in the Dark, 

. 

65 

X. 

A Friend in Need, 

. 

73 

XI. 

The Opening at Bridgeport, 

. 

81 

XII. 

From out of the Wreck, . 

. 

90 

XIII. 

A Chase after a Thief, 

. 

98 

XIV. 

Hiram Dunkirk Has a Strange Visitor, 

106 

XV. 

The Grand Opening in New York, 

. 

1 14 

XVI. 

Paul Meets a Former Enemy, . 

. 

122 

XVII. 

Horace Prowler’s Advice, 

. 

129 

XVIII. 

The Young Bandmaster’s Quick Move, . 

140 

XIX. 

In the midst of the Flames, 

. 

148 

XX. 

Paul Saves a Friend, 

. 

156 

XXL 

Almost a Pitched Battle, 

. 

164 

XXII. 

A Battle with the Scene-Shifters, 


172 

XXIII. 

An Encounter on the Schooner, 

» • 

184 


V 


vi 

CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 

XXIV. 

Hiram Dunkirk Is Mystified, . 

. 192 

XXV. 

Bound for Cuba, .... 

. 200 

XXVI. 

Fighting for the Flag of Freedom, 

. 208 

XXVII. 

Back to the States again, 

. 215 

XXVIII. 

Hiram Turns the Tables, 

. 220 

XXIX. 

In Which Affairs Get Mixed, 

. 228 

XXX. 

A Message from Africa, . 

. 235 

XXXI. 

A Welcome Arrival 

. 245 

XXXII. 

Hiram Dunkirk is Dumfounded, 

. 253 

XXXIII. 

Farewell to the Young Bandmaster, 

. 263 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


CHAPTER L 

A ROW AND ITS RESULT. 

‘‘ Paul Graham ! 

Yes, Mr. Dunkirk.’’ 

“ Will you stop that outrageous noise? Toot, 
toot, toot-a-toot, all the afternoon, until I am 
about ready to go to an insane asylum.” 

I did not know you objected to my practic- 
ing in the attic of the house, Mr. Dunkirk. You 
never objected before.” 

‘‘ That is because I am too indulgent with you, 
Paul,” fumed the fussy old fellow, who had been 
the youth’s guardian for the past three years. 

I ought to have smashed that cornet six months 
ago. What good does it do to play on it, any- 
way?” 

‘‘ I am trying to master the instrument, sir.” 

For what?” 

'' Some day I am going to join a band or 
orchestra/' 


2 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“Tut! tut! Don’t talk like a fool. Join a 
band, indeed ! I fancy you’ll earn your living in 
a much more respectable way — if I have anything 
to say about it — and I think I have.” 

“ Being a musician is as respectable as any- 
thing,” replied Paul Graham, his handsome face 
flushing. 

“ Especially such musicians as were playing in 
the gutters of Stoneville only last week, eh ? ” 
sneered Hiram Dunkirk. “ I presume it would 
just suit your low taste to join such a crowd.” 

“ The poor fellows were down on their luck — 
they were honest and willing enough,” answered 
Paul quickly, for he had been interested in the 
strolling players and had assisted them to the ex- 
tent of his slender purse. “ A minstrel show 
went to pieces in Boston and left them stranded.” 

“ What ! Do you mean to say you took up 
with those rascals ? ” roared Hiram Dunkirk. 
“You are a worse boy than I took you to be. 
Perhaps you would like to join such a gutter 
band? ” 

“ No, sir; when the proper time comes I want 
to join the best band or orchestra I can get into.” 

“ You’ll do nothing of the kind, boy — ^nothing 
of the kind ! ” Hiram Dunkirk’s voice rose 
shrilly, showing his anger was growing deeper. 
“ As soon as your schooling is at an end, and 
that will be next month, you’ll begin to learn 


A ROW AND ITS RESULT. 


3 


some trade. Fve already consulted Joel Burgess 
about it.” 

“ Joel Burgess ! ” repeated Paul in perplexity. 

The man mentioned was one who owned a large 
coopering establishment in Stoneville. He was 
a hard-hearted individual, who kept his employees 
at bottom wages, and no one liked him. 

“ Yes, Joel Burgess. He said he might take 
you in and teach you the coopering trade.” 

“ I don’t know as I care to become a cooper,” 
answered Paul coldly. “ I think you might have 
come to me about this before you went to Mr. 
Burgess,” he added bitterly. 

“ I know what is best for you, boy. You 
ought to be thankful that Joel Burgess will take 
you in. Why, a good cooper earns most twenty 
dollars a week down here, and more in some of 
the big cities ! ” 

“ And first-class musicians earn from twenty 
to a hundred dollars per week, Mr. Dunkirk. 
What is more, my father always told me that I 
could become a musician like my late Uncle 
Robert if I wished.” 

‘‘ I reckon that was when your father con- 
sidered himself well off — before the Stoneville 
Quarry Company failed.” 

'' I admit that, sir. But surely my father left 
enough to give me a good musical education^ and 
more” 


4 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ Your father didn’t leave any considerable 
amount, I can tell you that.” 

“ Well, how much did he leave, Mr. Dunkirk? 
I have wanted to ask you a good many times, but 
you never gave me the chance.” 

“ He — ah — he didn’t leave much, my boy, as 
I said before. The exact amount I can’t state, 
for the affairs of the quarry company are in a 
tangle yet.” 

“ They ought not to be after three years. Mr. 
Powell told me he thought the financial end of 
the matter had been wound up over a year ago.” 

At these words Hiram Dunkirk started, but 
quickly recovered. 

Mr. Powell is one of those know-alls who 
know nothing,” he snarled. “ He is the man who 
is teaching you how to play that horn, isn’t he ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Well, you had better drop him. How much 
do you pay him? ” 

‘‘ Fifty cents a lesson, once a week.” 

Humph ! And where do you get the money ? 
I give you only a quarter.” 

I know that well enough. I earn the rest 
doing odd jobs down in the town after school and 
on Saturdays.” 

“ And thus neglect your work around this 
house, eh? Well, it shan’t go on any longer. 
You’ll give up taking cornet lessons — hear? — and 


A ROW AND ITS RESULT. 


5 


attend to your home work and your schooling. 
And another thing — I don’t want you to have 
anything more to do with that Powell. He is no 
kind of a man for you to know.” 

He was one of father’s friends,” said Paul 
warmly. “ He is a real gentleman, and often 
gives me a much longer lesson than I pay for. 
He says that some day I am bound to make my 
mark as a player, and ” 

‘‘ Shut up ! I don’t want to hear another 
word about him or about your playing. It’s all 
tomfoolery! I won’t have you blowing your 
lungs away on the horn. It’s enough to give you 
consumption, or something.” 

To this outburst Paul remained silent. Hi- 
ram Dunkirk moved toward the attic door only 
to return as before. 

“ I don’t know but what it would be best for 
you to go to work for Joel Burgess at once,” he 
said. “ This single month of schooling that is 
left before vacation won’t do you much good, 
and he said he had an opening now. I reckon 
you can go to school to-morrow and tell the 
teacher, and the next day we’ll call on Burgess 
and you can settle down to business.” 

At these words Paul’s eyes flashed angrily. It 
was bad enough to speak of making him a cooper 
when he did not want to learn the trade; it was 
still worse to make him give up schooling when 


6 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

he was so near to graduating and getting his 
diploma. 

I would like to finish at school ’’ he be- 

gan. 

Never mind what you would like, boy. It’s 
come to my mind that it’s about time I took you 
in hand.” 

I don’t care for the cooper’s trade ” 

And I say you shall learn it — so there ! ” ex- 
claimed Hiram Dunkirk, in more of a rage than 
he had previously exhibited. ‘‘ I reckon I’m 
master of this house — and so long as you are 
under its roof and I am your guardian you’ll do 
as I want you to. Hand over that horn.” 

As he concluded, the unreasonable man strode 
forward to where Paul had placed the cornet on 
a rickety attic table. Before he could gain the 
brass instrument, however, Paul had secured it. 

What do you want of it ? ” asked the boy un- 
easily. 

I’m going to put it away so as you can’t waste 
any more time over it.” 

It is mine, sir; I traded for it a pair of skates 
and a sled, at Riley’s second-hand store.” 

Never mind; I want you to give it to me.” 

The youth hesitated, fearful that if once he 
got his hands on the cornet Hiram Dunkirk 
would smash it to bits; and, indeed, that is quite 
likely what the old man would have done, for he 


A RO IV AND ITS RESULT. 7 

had no more ear for music than a bull. On the 
other hand, to Paul, the brass B-flat cornet was 
the most precious of his few possessions. Music 
was the art which had captivated his soul, and 
the shiny cornet was his idol in that art. 

“ Do you hear ? Hand it over ! ’’ cried Hiram 
Dunkirk, as he saw Paul back away with the cor- 
net in his hands. 

“ I will put it away — for the present, Mr. Dun- 
kirk,'' and Paul placed the instrument behind his 
back. “ I— I " 

Give it to me, or I'll knock you down, you 
young rascal ! " fairly shrieked the man, for it 
was seldom that anyone in that household dared 
to cross him. ‘‘ Matters have come to a pretty 
pass when you dare disobey me in this fashion. 
Take that ! " 

Seeing that Paul did not comply with his de- 
mand, Hiram Dunkirk hauled off with his open 
right hand, intending to hit the youth over the 
ear. But Paul dodged, and the hand struck the 
plastering beside the window with such force that 
a portion of the wall fell off. Hiram Dunkirk 
uttered a snarl like that of a baffled wild beast. 

“You imp!" he ejaculated. The next mo- 
ment he had leaped upon Paul. There was a 
brief scuffle, the overturning of the table, and 
then man and boy were struggling upon the floor 
— with the man on top. 


CHAPTER II. 


PAUL COMES TO A DETERMINATION. 

“ Let me up ! ” 

“ I won’t — not until you promise to obey me ! ” 
returned Hiram Dunkirk wrathfully. “ You 
have wanted a warming for a good long while, 
Paul Graham, and now I’m going to give it ye ! ” 

“ Let me up, or — or you’ll regret it ! ” panted 
Paul, whose wind was fast leaving him, for his 
tormentor was a man who weighed over a hun- 
dred and fifty pounds. 

“ Will you obey me and give me the horn? ” 

Instead of replying, Paul renewed his struggles. 
Although small, he was strong, and as limber as 
an eel ; and watching his chance he pushed Hiram 
Dunkirk to one side, thereby upsetting that aston- 
ished individual, and the next instant he was on 
his feet and making for the doorway with all pos- 
sible speed. 

“ Hi ! hi ! Stop, you young rascal ! ” roared 
the man, more overcome with wrath than ever. 

Stop, or I’ll— I’ll kill you!” 

“ I have no desire to be killed,” returned Paul. 

I’ll come back after I have put away the cornet 
8 


PAUL COMES TO A DETERMlMATlON. 9 


and after you have cooled off ! ” And away he 
went down the attic stairs, three steps at a time. 

Hiram Dunkirk continued to yell after him, 
and this alarmed his wife, a short, greasy woman 
of fifty, who was ten times meaner even than her 
husband, and who could hardly bear the sight of 
Paul. She came rushing out of a bedroom on the 
second floor just as the boy was speeding past. 
There was a stunning shock as both came to- 
gether, and the boy went spinning in one direc- 
tion, while Mrs. Dunkirk spun in another. 

Oh, my land sakes ! wailed the woman, as 
soon as she could catch her breath. ‘‘ Paul Gra- 
ham, how dare you ? ” 

“ Excuse me, I couldn’t help it,” he began. 

“ Margy ! Margy ! Hold him ! Don’t let 
him get away!” came from Hiram Dunkirk. 

I’m going to give him the worst hiding a boy 
ever got ! ” 

At these words Mrs. Dunkirk essayed to strug- 
gle to her feet. But this was not so easy, and 
long before it was accomplished Paul had reached 
the lower hallway and bolted through a side door 
of the house. 

He’s gone — I couldn’t hold him,” puffed the 
woman. What’s the row about, Hiram ? ” 

“ About — everything I ” grumbled her hus- 
band, as he came down from the attic. “ Margy, 
I’ve got to take that boy in charge or he’ll be the 


10 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 


ruination of us ! ’’ And the old man shook his 
head solemnly. 

“ Why, Hiram, ye don’t mean he’s — ^he’s dis- 
covered something ? ” came from Mrs. Dunkirk 
in a semi-whisper. 

“ Hush ! ” interrupted Hiram Dunkirk, clapping 
his hand over her mouth. “No, he aint discov- 
ered anything — yet. But there’s no telling what 
will happen if he’s allowed to run around as he 
pleases. Since he got that cornet he has been 
taking lessons of that Anderson Powell, and 
Powell told him he knew matters had been settled 
up at the stone quarries a year ago.” 

“ I wouldn’t let him have anything to do with 
Powell, Hiram.” 

“ I aint a-going to — and he’s not to learn the 
horn or go to school any longer neither. Day 
after to-morrow he goes to work for Joel Bur- 
gess. Burgess will work him so hard he won’t 
have time to think of what is a-coming to 
him.” Hiram Dunkirk chuckled craftily. “ Let 
Joel alone for working a boy for all he is 
worth ! ” 

“Yes; but maybe it would be better to send 
him away from Stoneville,” said his wife sug- 
gestively. “ He is bound to hear more than he 
ought to know, sooner or later.” 

“ That’s true, and I may fix it to send him away 
later on. Or, it may be Joel will treat him so 


PAUL COMES TO A DETERMINATION. H 

meanly he’ll run away of his own account,” con- 
cluded Hiram Dunkirk. 

In the meantime Paul had left the vicinity of 
the house and was hurrying toward the barn, a 
rambling structure standing at the lower end of 
what had once been a well-kept garden, but which 
was now little better than a quarter-acre patch of 
weeds. For three years the Dunkirk homestead, 
situated upon the outskirts of Stoneville, had been 
going to decay. Since the death of Paul’s father 
Hiram Dunkirk had done but little toward sup- 
porting himself. Why this was so my readers 
will discover later on. 

Reaching the barn, Paul looked back to see if 
he was followed, and then entered the structure. 
His precious cornet, along with some music he 
had hastily snatched up, was hidden away in the 
loft, and he breathed easier. Sitting down on a 
feed-box he reviewed the situation. 

It was not a pleasant retrospect. Nine years 
before no boy in the city of Boston had been hap- 
pier than he. At that time father, mother, and 
son had lived in the fashionable portion of the 
town, near the Back Bay, and Paul had had nearly 
all that heart could wish. 

Reverses had come with remarkable rapidity. 
On a trip to New York with the Uncle Robert 
previously mentioned the steamboat on which 
Mrs. Graham had taken passage had struck on a 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

rock in Long Island Sound, and in the fog she 
and the uncle had been pitched overboard and 
drowned. 

This calamity had nearly bereft Mr. Graham 
of his reason, while Paul had spent many a bitter 
hour mourning his lost parent. His father had 
soon after sold out his home and business at the 
Hub and settled in Stoneville, in a hired house 
adjoining Hiram Dunkirk’s estate. 

When Mr. Graham had again felt able to at- 
tend to business he had bought an interest in the 
Stoneville Quarry Company, in which Hiram 
Dunkirk was also a stockholder. Thus the two 
had become acquainted, much to Paul’s present 
sorrow. 

A premature blast at the quarries had laid Mr. 
Graham low, and while he was on his sick bed, 
and scarcely in his right mind, Hiram Dunkirk 
had attended to the making of a will and several 
other matters. Of the will Paul knew but little. 
All he did know was that after his father had died 
and been buried their household effects had been 
disposed of at auction, and he had been taken to 
live at the Dunkirk place. Shortly after this the 
quarry company had failed, and he had been given 
to understand by Hiram Dunkirk that no such 
sum of money as he had hoped for would ever be 
his when he became of age. 

If there was one thing which the orphan lad 


PAUL COMES TO A DETEPM/JVA TJOLT. 1 3 

loved it was music. His whole soul was wrapped 
up in that art, and every spare moment of his 
time was devoted to studying his music lessons 
and exercises, and in playing on his cornet. In 
his younger years he had taken piano lessons for 
several quarters, and his performance on that in- 
strument was by no means bad. As to reading, 
he could take up any piece of music and read it 
at sight. 

“ Wants me to give up schooling and music 
and learn coopering, does he ? ” muttered Paul, 
as he gave the feed-box a savage kick with his 
heel. “ Well, I just guess I won’t do it. Joel 
Burgess is a regular skinflint, and I’d rather die 
than work for him. Mr. Dunkirk must either let 
me learn what I want or else I’ll cut sticks and 
shift for myself, and that’s flat ! ” 

Having so concluded, Paul sprang to the floor 
and walked out of the barn. He was crossing the 
neglected garden when he saw Hiram Dunkirk 
stalking toward him. He was at first tempted to 
retreat, but on second thought he stood his 
ground. 

“ Paul, that was a nice way in which to treat 
me,” said the old man, but his manner was so 
mild that the youth wondered at the change that 
had come over him. 

‘‘ I didn’t start the row, Mr. Dunkirk,” he an- 
swered, hardly knowing what to say. 


14 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ You ought to have given me the horn when 
I asked for it.” 

It was my horn — I paid for it.” 

Everything that is yours is under my care 
until you are twenty-one, boy, remember that. 
However,” Hiram Dunkirk cleared his throat, “ I 
didn’t come out to quarrel again. I want you to 
come down in the cellar and move those barrels 
of cider we were going to shift for a week back.” 

“ All right, sir; I’m willing to do any work that 
is to be done,” responded Paul promptly, in order 
to show that he stood ready to do all asked of him 
if treated right. 

In silence the pair proceeded to the cellar under 
the house, a gloomy apartment, built of rough 
stone, with here and there a small window, with 
the panes of glass thick with dust and cobwebs. 
The cider barrels were six in number, and Hiram 
Dunkirk had once before spoken of rolling them 
from the upper end of the cellar to the lower. 

“ Put ’em right down alongside of the old meat 
closet,” said the man. “ Be careful how you 
handle ’em. I’ll hold the lantern so you can see. 
There, that’s it. Now the next.” 

One after another the barrels were rolled over 
and stood up as desired. The work made Paul 
sweat, and by the time it was finished he was 
pretty well fagged out. 

“ Now look around the closet and see if there 


PAUL COMES TO A DETERMINATION. I5 

aint a smoked ham in the corner/^ went on Hiram 
Dunkirk. “ Margy reckoned there was one 
there.'’ 

Not supecting the trap which had been laid 
for him, Paul entered the closet, which was built 
of oaken timber an inch and more thick. Hardly 
was he inside when the old man set down his lan- 
tern and slammed shut the door. The slipping 
of a heavy bolt into place followed. 

“ Now, Paul Graham, I reckon you’ll stay 
there until we can come to terms,” chuckled Hi- 
ram Dunkirk harshly. You shan’t have a 
mouthful to eat or drink until you are willing to 
promise that in the future you will do just what 
I want you to ! ” 


CHAPTER III. 


PAUL MAKES A MOVE. 

It must be confessed that Paul had been taken 
by surprise, for he had not dreamed that his 
guardian would go so far as to make him a pris- 
oner. For the moment he hardly knew what to 
say to such unusual treatment. 

So you are going to keep me locked up 
here ? ” he ventured, after an awkward silence. 

“Yes, I am. I’ll show you that I am your mas- 
ter,” returned Hiram Dunkirk, more sourly than 
ever, now that he had the boy in his power. 

“You have no right to lock me up in this 
fashion, Mr. Dunkirk.” 

“ I reckon as your guardian I have a right to 
make you mind.” 

“ I want you to let me out.” 

“ I won’t — not until you promise to give up 
your music and schooling and go to work for Joel 
Burgess as a decent boy should.” 

“ I’ll never promise that.” 

“ Then ye can stay there and starve to death,” 
growled the unreasonable old man. “ Now, 


PAUL MAKES A MOVE. 


17 


don't you raise a row while Fm gone, or Fll come 
back with the snake- whip and take it out of your 
hide!” 

With this threat Hiram Dunkirk took up his 
lantern, and Paul heard him lumber up the cellar 
stairs and shut and lock the upper door after him. 

“ Well, of all the brutes ” were the words 

which came to the youth’s lips, and then he be- 
came silent, feeling that fault-finding would do 
no good. A minute later he had decided on a 
course of action. He would raise no row, but he 
would get out of his prison cell if such a thing 
could possibly be accomplished. 

The old meat closet was about four feet square, 
and had been used for storing away salt and 
smoked meats previous to the building of a regu- 
lar house outside, next to the dairy. On one side 
were a set of small shelves and on the other 
hooks and nails for hanging hams and shoulder 
pieces. The ham Hiram Dunkirk had mentioned 
was not there, and never had been, for the closet 
had been given over to the spiders and mice for 
a year and more. 

In the darkness Paul felt around carefully, but 
could find no board which was loose enough to 
be pried off without tools. The oaken planks 
had not rotted, and the closet was as tight a box 
as one would hope to find. 

His inspection of the sides finished, his next 


I8 the young bandmaster. 

move was to find out something about the floor- 
ing overhead. To reach this he took out the 
upper shelves before mentioned and stood upon a 
lower one. He could now touch several boards 
which formed part of the parlor floor, and among 
them was one which could be pried up with ease. 

But now a new difficulty stood in his way. 
The parlor floor was covered with carpet, and to 
lift the entire piece up was out of the question. 
To even shove it up a few feet would have 
knocked down considerable furniture. 

As Paul was deliberating upon what to do, and 
holding up an end of the board at the same time, 
there came a crash, and through a slit in the 
carpet he saw that a center table had overturned, 
carrying with it an unlighted lamp and half a 
dozen articles of bric-a-brac. The crash was fol- 
lowed almost immediately by the entrance of 
Mrs. Dunkirk into the room, who surveyed the 
scene in horror and amazement. 

Land sakes alive, what on airth is the meanin' 
of this ! ” burst from her trembling lips. “ Paul 
Graham ! Are ye trying to pull the house 
down ? ’’ 

“ Pm trying to get out of this meat closet ! 
he answered, with his head partly through the 
slit in the carpet. ‘‘ Mr. Dunkirk had no right 
to lock me up.” 

‘‘ Take care — take care, or you’ll have the car- 


PAUL MAKES A MOVE. 


19 


pet ruined ! ” she shrieked, for the carpet was her 
pride, having been bought new only the year be- 
fore. 

“ If you don’t want me to get out this way 
come and unlock the door,” the boy returned 
coldly. 

“ I will ! I will ! Stop tearin’ that seam ! 
And the lamp smashed and the oil everywhere ! ” 
And with almost a moan she ran out of the room, 
to get the closet key, which Hiram Dunkirk had 
left hanging on a nail in the kitchen. 

When she was gone Paul began to think 
rapidly. What if, instead of unlocking the door, 
she should summon her husband, who might 
come with his whip or a club, or even his shot- 
gun? He resolved to run no chance, and hardly 
had she been gone five seconds when he enlarged 
the slit in the carpet seam and crawled forth into 
the room. 

What’s the matter, Margy ? ” he heard Hi- 
ram Dunkirk exclaim from the kitchen door, and 
a confused murmur of voices followed. Wait- 
ing no longer, he opened a parlor window, leaped 
out, and made tracks toward the barn. 

“Now, what’s to do next?” Such was the 
question Paul asked himself, but an answer was 
not forthcoming. He felt a crisis had been 
reached in his life, but what the outcome would 
be there was no telling. On one matter, how- 


20 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


ever, he was resolved. He would not go to work 
for that miserly skinflint, Joel Burgess. 

ril run away and try my luck in Boston first,’’ 
he muttered. “ I’ll be sure to find something to 
do — around a music store or in a musical instru- 
ment establishment, or somewhere. Hiram Dun- 
kirk shan’t make a slave of me. If he Here 

he comes now, and mad as a hornet, too ! ” 

Paul was right; and, taking time by the fore- 
lock, the lad sprang out of sight and then climbed 
to the loft above, where he hid in the hay, beside 
the hidden cornet and music. 

Hang the luck ! ” were the first words he 
heard issuing from his guardian’s lips. Where 
under the sun’s the boy gone to? Paul! Paul 
Graham ! If you are around you had better give 
yourself up, unless you want to be skinned alive 
when I ketch ye I ” he yelled. 

Thanks, I’m not giving myself up just yet! ” 
murmured the youth. “ You have got to cool 
off a good bit before I expose myself again.” 

Receiving no answer to his cries, Hiram Dun- 
kirk began a hasty examination of the premises. 
He even mounted the ladder to the loft, and Paul 
held his breath. But the lad was not discovered; 
and in a minute more his guardian went down 
again. 

‘‘ Did you find him, Hiram ? ” called out Mrs. 
Dunkirk, coming toward the barn with her broom 


PAUL MAKES A MOVE, 


21 


in hand. When aroused, the broom was her 
favorite weapon of offence. 

No, I didn’t ! ” he growled. “ He don’t 
seem to be anywhere. Like as not he’s run 
away.” 

** Well, I wish he’d run away and stay away,” 
rejoined Mrs. Dunkirk. The whole parlor 
carpet is sp’iled ! ” 

‘‘ The carpet aint nothing ! ” fumed Hiram 
Dunkirk. “ If that boy takes it into his head to 
do it, he can make me a lot of trouble, Margy.” 

“ I don’t see how he can, if he aint discovered 
nothing, Hiram.” 

He may discover something, if he noses 
around long enough. Anderson Powell don’t 
know much, but he may put the boy on the track 
of some other folks as does. If Barrett Radley 

should turn up ” 

Oh, but he’s gone to Africky, aint he ? ” 

Yes. But folks sometimes come back, even 
from Africky. I would rather keep Paul under 
my thumb and know jest what he’s a-doing,” con- 
cluded Hiram Dunkirk. 

Paul listened to the talk with absorbing atten- 
tion. What did it all mean? How could he 
make trouble for his guardian by nosing around ? 
What did some other folks know to Hiram Dun- 
kirk’s discredit? 

He had heard of Barrett Radley before. He 


22 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


was a speculator from New York who had once 
come up to Stoneville with some idea of buying 
out the quarries. But the deal had fallen 
through, and Barrett Radley had left immedi- 
ately afterward. 

The lad heard Hiram Dunkirk hitch up his 
mare to the road wagon. A short talk with his 
wife followed, and the old man drove off and 
Mrs. Dunkirk returned to the house. 

Five minutes later Paul was sneaking toward 
the house with extreme caution. His mind was 
made up. He was going to quit the Dunkirk 
homestead and go out into the world to make his 
own way in whatever manner fortune would 
favor him. Some day, when he was in a posi- 
tion to do so, he would return and bring his 
guardian to account. 

To enter the house unobserved proved easy, 
for Mrs. Dunkirk was busy in the parlor, remov- 
ing the traces of the havoc which had been 
wrought. Slipping upstairs, Paul brought out 
a battered valise, and into it he stuffed the best of 
his clothing. Then, with the valise in one hand 
and his cornet and music in the other, he quitted 
the place as silently as he had entered. 

He had broken off with the old mode of living. 
The whole world lay before him — and a series of 
surprising adventures in the bargain. 


CHAPTER IV. 


THE YOUNG CORNETIST. 

“ Health^ strength, and a capital of sixty-five 
cents,’' was the way in which Paul summed up 
his resources as he strode along the stony road 
leading to the town, half a mile distant. 
“ Health and strength are all right, but the capi- 
tal is decidedly limited.” 

As he walked along he kept his eyes open for 
the possible appearance of his guardian. But 
Hiram Dunkirk was nowhere to be seen. 

Soon Stoneville was reached, and after a little 
hesitation Paul mounted the piazza of his music 
teacher’s home. He was anxious to learn more 
of what Anderson Powell might know concern- 
ing the quarry company’s affairs, and he also 
wanted his teacher’s advice about his future 
movements. 

A setback awaited him. 

“ Mr. Powell left for Boston this noon,” said 
the hired girl in charge. “ He doesn’t expect to 
get back before Wednesday or Thursday of next 
week.” 

‘‘ One chance missed,” thought the youth, as 


23 


24 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

he walked away. “ Now what is the next move 
to make ? ” 

As he stood irresolute, he saw a gentleman 
rush up on the piazza he had just quitted and 
ring the bell vigorously. 

'' I would like to see Mr. Powell at once,’' said 
he, the moment the girl appeared. 

“ Sorry, sir, but he’s away to Boston.” 

Oh, pshaw ! I wanted him to play the cor- 
net for me to-night.” The man hesitated and 
drew a long breath. Do you know where I can 
find another cornet player? Any fairly good 
player will do.” 

“ One of Mr. Powell’s pupils was here a few 
minutes ago, sir. He might do, for he plays very 
nicely, so I’ve heard Mr. Powell say.” The girl 
stepped out and looked up and down. There 
he is now. Paul Graham ! ” she called. 

“ This girl tells me you can play the cornet,” 
said the man, and now Paul recognized him as 
the owner of a show hall in Tipton, a town three 
miles south of Stoneville. 

“ Yes, sir, I can play fairly well,” answered the 
lad, with interest. 

“ Can you read music? ” 
li it is not very difficult — that is, at sight. 
Of course I can read anything with a little prac- 
ticing.” 

I mean ordinary pieces and dance music.” 


THE YOUNG CORNETIST. 25 

‘‘ I can get over that all right enough/' 

“ Then you are just the person I am looking 
for. We have a theatrical entertainment at the 
Tipton Hall to-night, winding up with a dance. 
At the last moment the musicians disappointed 
me. I have managed to get a piano player, a 
violinist and a flutist, but I want a cornet to top 
things off. If you'll come over at once I’ll give 
you two dollars." 

Paul hesitated. Here was an opening when 
he had least expected it. More than that. Tip- 
ton was in the direction of Boston, for which he 
had intended to strike out. 

“ Come, what do you say ? I haven't any time 
to spare. My horse and buggy are tied up over 
at the hotel." 

Two dollars is not enough," said the boy, 
seeing a fair chance of making more. “ A regu- 
lar theatrical job is worth three dollars, and with 
a dance afterward, five dollars." 

“ I wasn't calculating to pay a boy men's 
wages. However, I haven’t time to argue the 
point. I’ll give you four dollars and a supper — 
if you can do the work properly.” 

Paul accepted, and off the pair hurried to 
where the hall manager's turnout had been left. 
In a few minutes they were rattling along the 
Tipton road at a lively gait. 

From Mr. Roscoe — such was the manager's 


26 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


name — Paul learned that the play to be given was 
the familiar one of “ Hazel Kirke/' that New 
York success which barn-storming companies 
have utilized to the utmost for a number of years. 
The cue music, he was told, was very simple, and 
popular airs were to be given between the acts. 
Dancing was to begin immediately after the con- 
clusion of the show. A dance after the play, 
although unknown to city theatrical-goers, is 
very popular in certain country localities. 

It was after six o’clock when Tipton was 
reached and they alighted at the hall. Paul had 
had no supper, but with the promise of a good 
meal later on he did not complain. He was at 
once introduced to the other musicians that had 
gathered, and no time was lost by the piano player 
and leader in starting in on a rehearsal. 

Even in such ordinary company Paul felt a 
bit nervous at first, for this was his first appear- 
ance in public. But Anderson Powell’s training 
had been careful and thorough, and he did very 
well, much better, in fact, than the flutist, who 
could read but little and who was inclined to 
‘‘ vamp ” — that is, play by ear — in consequence. 
In one of the cues Paul had to reach several notes 
which were high for a B-flat cornet, but he struck 
them fairly, and this pleased the leader, Carl 
Ross, very much. 

''You VOS all right, mine poy,” said he, in 


THE YOUNG CORNETIST. 2 7 

broken English. ‘‘ You vos do besser as dot flute 
blayer vot can’t blay at all.” 

Some of the company were rehearsing on the 
stage, and between these people and the orchestra 
there was a good deal of confusion. By the time 
the cues and a few popular airs were gone over 
it was time to “ wind up ” and throw open the 
doors to the general public. 

Manager Roscoe had advertised his attraction 
well in Tipton, Stoneville, and a number of other 
places, and soon the hall began to fill up, for 
theatrical attractions did not number over a 
dozen a winter in the vicinity, and not a dance 
had been given in over two weeks. By eight 
o’clock, the time to start, every seat was filled and 
standing room was pretty well crowded. 

For an opening the orchestra leader had se- 
lected one of Sousa’s stirring marches. In this 
there was lots of work for the cornet, and work 
of no mean order, as anybody who has ever 
played Sousa’s music knows. 

All ready?” whispered the leader, with a 
look around. There was no reply, and with a 
wave of his hand and a crash on the piano the 
march struck up — and Paul Graham’s career as 
a public player could be said to have fairly begun. 

Everyone played with spirit, and Paul’s cor- 
net drowned out many of the mistakes made by 
the flutist. The pianist and violinist did well. 


28 


.THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


Paul went at his work with a swing and a dash 
which would have been creditable to an experi- 
enced professional, and before the first part of the 
march was finished half of the audience were 
keeping time with their feet. When at last the 
march came to an end there was a generous clap- 
ping of hands, a stamping of feet, and several 
were heard to say : That was fine, wasn't it ? ” 
‘‘ Say, but couldn’t a fellow march all day to 
that? ” and so forth. 

A number of people from Stoneville who 
knew Paul had recognized him, and they were 
much astonished to see him sitting there perform- 
ing his part with the ease and grace of one who 
had done such things for years. 

He’s a born musician,” whispered one lady 
to another. “Mr. Powell said so.” 

“ I wonder if he’s going to make music a busi- 
ness ? ” questioned another. “ I shouldn’t think 
that crabbed old Hiram Dunkirk would let him. 
They haven’t even a melodeon in the house.” 

“ He’s not going to be a musician,” put in a 
man sitting near. “ He’s going to learn the 
coopering trade; Joel Burgess told me so this 
noon.” 

“ Heaven pity him if he’s got to work for old 
Joel Burgess ! ” answered the first lady, and then 
followed a silence, as the orchestra struck up on 


THE YOUNG C0RNETIS7\ 


29 


the first cue and the curtain rolled up on the open- 
ing act of “ Hazel Kirke.” 

Although the theatrical company would not 
have made a hit in a large city, it was composed 
of fairly good performers, and the play proceeded 
to the entire satisfaction of the audience, who 
brought out sweet Hazel and the lover, and also 
the blind miller, a number of times as an encore. 
When the wind-up came, and the villain was de- 
feated and the lovers made happy, the applause 
shook the building, and continued even while the 
company were getting out of their stage dresses 
and the supers were clearing away the benches 
for the dance to follow. 

Half an hour later the orchestra, piano and all, 
had been transferred to the stage, and the dance 
was in full swing, when, on chancing to look to- 
ward the main entrance to the place, Paul saw a 
sight which filled him with surprise and dismay. 
Hiram Dunkirk had just entered, followed by 
Joel Burgess and by Miles Cross, one of . the 
Stoneville constables. 

The orchestra was playing the finale of a schot- 
tische. How he wound up his part Paul could 
not tell, but by the time he had finished the three 
men were at his side. Catching him by the 
shoulder, Hiram Dunkirk dragged him back. 

‘‘ So I have found you, have I? '' he said 


30 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

sternly. “ Pretty goings-on, these, I must say ! 
Miles, do your duty.'' 

‘‘ But hadn't we better argy the p'int ? " sug- 
gested the Stoneville constable. “ He may not 
be guilty, you know." 

“ Oh, but he is guilty ! " insisted Hiram Dun- 
kirk. ‘‘ I'm sure of it, and so is my wife; like- 
wise Mrs. Potter, our neighbor, who saw him 
coming out of the house with a valise." 

Guilty of what?" demanded Paul, feeling 
something unusual was in the air. “ I am guilty 
of running away, Mr. Dunkirk, if that is what 
you mean. I'm not going back, either, if I can 
help it," he added warmly. 

“ But you are going back — and with the con- 
stable, too, Paul Graham ! " cried Hiram Dun- 
kirk. And what's more, it won't do you no 
good to play the innocent. Mrs. Potter saw you 
coming out of the house with the valise after I 
left for Joel Burgess' place." 

‘‘ I don’t deny I came out of the house with the 
valise.” 

“ Ha ! what did I tell you ? " cried the old man, 
turning in triumph to those with him. “ He's a 
villain, but he can’t back down in the face of the 
evidence against him." 

‘‘ The valise was mine, and I took only such 
things as belong to me,” continued Paul, think- 
ing he saw the drift of matters. 


THE YOUNG CORNETIST, 31 

‘‘ You did not — you took more — a good deal 
more. You broke open the desk in the sitting 
room and stole four hundred and fifty dollars ! ” 
almost screamed Hiram Dunkirk. “ Miles, don’t 
you let him git away! Unless he gives up the 
money at once he shall go to State’s prison for his 
outrageous crime ! ” 


CHAPTER V. 

A LEAP IN THE DARK. 

For the moment after he was accused Paul 
Graham could not believe the evidence of his own 
ears. Here he was charged with stealing four 
hundred and fifty dollars from a desk in the Dun- 
kirk sitting room, and either he must give up the 
money or go to State’s prison for the crime. 

He had never opened the desk mentioned, 
which his guardian always kept locked, and he 
had certainly never seen such an amount of cash 
as that he was accused of taking. For the mo- 
ment he stared in bewilderment at the trio of men 
before him; then, as his eyes searched the crafty 
features of Hiram Dunkirk, he stepped forward 
and shook his fist in the old man’s face. 

‘‘ Mr Dunkirk, you are a thorough villain, not 
I,” he said loudly and distinctly. “ I never 
touched a cent of your money, and you know it. 
You treated me so meanly that I had to run away 
from your place, and now you want to drag me 
back by accusing me of a crime that was never 


3 * 


A LEAP IN THE DARK. 


33 


committed. If you were not the old man that you 
are I would knock you down where you stand ! ” 

‘‘ You — you — this to me ! stammered Hiram 
Dunkirk, falling back several paces. 

Yes, that to you. I repeat, I never touched a 
cent of your money — ^but you have touched many 
a dollar belonging to me,’' added Paul signifi- 
cantly. 

I haven’t — not a dollar — leastwise not in a 
way but what was perfectly lawful,” growled Hi- 
ram Dunkirk, his face whitening. ‘‘ And I have 
always treated you better than you deserved — all 
the neighbors know that. You took the money, 
and you must give it back.” The old man began 
to recover his self-possession. “ Miles, see to it 
he don’t give you the slip.” 

He shan’t run away,” answered the Stone- 
ville constable. Paul, if you have the money, 
you had better give it up and go back home with 
your guardian,” he continued in a friendly tone, 
for he had known the boy for several years, and 
he liked the lad. 

‘‘ I never touched it — don’t believe he had any 
such amount in the house,” was the earnest an- 
swer. You ought to know me better than that. 
Miles Cross.” 

“ Well, I thought I did,” faltered the constable. 
'' But he did have the money, for Joel Burgess 
here says he paid it over for a town lot only yes- 


34 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


terday, and your guardian took it home to keep 
until he went to the bank. And now it’s gone, 
and somebody must have taken it.” 

The scene had attracted considerable attention, 
and the parties interested were now surrounded 
by the hall manager, the other musicians, and a 
goodly number of the men who were participat- 
ing in the dance. 

“ Accuses the young cornet player of stealing 
four hundred dollars, does he? Well, that’s 
rather serious.” 

So spoke Roscoe, the manager, and many 
agreed with him. The piano player shook his 
head dubiously. 

I dinks he no blay no more dis efening,” he 
said. Und he vos der best blayer of der lot ! ” 

''Where is his valise?” put in Joel Burgess, 
who up to this point had remained silent. 

" My valise is over in yonder corner,” an- 
swered Paul. " It is not locked. You may 
search it to your heart’s content.” 

The bag was brought forward and thrown 
open. Of course nothing but Paul’s clothing 
and some music books were found. Hiram Dun- 
kirk’s face took on a more sour look than ever. 

" He has hid the money somewhere,” he said. 
" Take him off to the Stoneville lock-up, Miles, 
and I reckon we’ll make him tell us where it is 
later,” 



THE SEARCH FOR THE STOLEN MONEY. P. 34 
















» ’ • 


••sVf" • - ■ 






■\ ••• -•-• 


• • 


■■ ' ^ ^ ’ 





I) 





n> 



» - J 





t W -A 

♦ * / ti ' 


'"•j^ ‘ - - . i 

- ~ i 



•<■ / 




ll» 





'i f 


fc- jriMLFZ.M * 

* \ A * ■ A * * • ■ t Irf ^ 

* y-'* V . <,• f - ■ • ' .5: 1 1 

( • ".v. jf< *** A. i 





VI A 


A LEAP IN THE DARK. 


35 


'' I’m sorry for you, Paul, but I’ve got to do 
my duty; so come along,” said the constable. 

The boy’s first impulse was to break away and 
run, but on second thought he quietly submitted, 
and amid a hubbub of voices the little party left 
the hall, Paul carrying his cornet and music, and 
Hiram Dunkirk the valise. 

Down in the street stood Dunkirk’s box wagon, 
containing two seats. Into this the three men 
and the boy piled, Hiram Dunkirk and Burgess 
on the front seat and the constable and Paul be- 
hind. Gathering up the reins and the whip, Hi- 
ram Dunkirk started the turnout for Stoneville 
and the local lock-up. 

It was now nearly midnight, and as there was 
no moon and but few stars the night was dark. 
The road was a lonely one, over several hills and 
down into as many hollows, and for a good por- 
tion of the distance was lined on either side with 
dense woods. 

“If you took that money to Tipton with you, 
you might as well own up,” suggested Joel Bur- 
gess, after a short ride in silence. 

“ I didn’t take the money, and don’t believe it 
was stolen,” answered Paul, and after that he 
would say no more, although all three of the men 
did their best to “ pump ” him. 

The truth was, Paul was trying to figure out 
what would be the best move to make next. Tq 


36 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


submit quietly to being locked up was out of the 
question. Once in the grasp of the law, he felt 
certain his guardian would do all in his power to 
make out a case against him. ‘‘ By having me 
convicted he’ll think it will be out of my power to 
proceed against him,” thought the lad bitterly, and 
in this he was more than half right. 

About half the distance to Stoneville had been 
covered when the wagon reached the top of a 
steep hill and Hiram Dunkirk commenced to 
drive the mare down the opposite side with needed 
care. 

Easy now, Bess ! ” he called out. Don’t go 
too fast in the dark, or you’ll break your neck and 
our necks too! Plague on the critter! Easy 
now, I say, easy ! ” 

Away rattled the box wagon down the rough 
road. As it bumped along Paul felt that his most 
favorable chance for escape had come. He still 
held his cornet and music. Now, reaching under 
the forward seat, he secured his valise. 

“ Good-by, Miles Cross ! ” he cried, and shoved 
the constable over upon Joel Burgess. Then he 
made a wild leap into the dark, clearing the 
wagon and landing in a patch of ferns and tall 
grasses. His foot struck a stone, and picking it 
up he hurled it at the mare, hitting her in the 
flank and causing her to bound along with more 
speed than ever. 


A LEAP IN THE DARK, 


37 


Hi, stop him ! he heard the constable yell, 
and as soon as he could the man leaped after Paul. 

‘‘ What’s up ? ” cried Dunkirk, not daring to 
look back. “ Gone ! Hang the luck ! Whoa, 
Bess, whoa, or you’ll smash the wagon to bits! 
Stop huggin’ me, Joel I Hold fast to the seat.” 

“We’ll be killed!” whined the frightened 
cooper. “ Whoa ! whoa ! you crazy beast. Give 
me the lines. Whoa! If I Oh!” 

Joel Burgess’ speech came to a sudden termina- 
tion as the wagon swerved to one side and hit a 
large bowlder. Up he went into the air, to be 
flung several yards. When he came down it was 
in the midst of a prickly blackberry bush, and his 
yells of pain could be heard a quarter of a mile 
off. The turnout went on, but in half a minute 
more Hiram Dunkirk had the mare under control, 
and the mad dash down the hill came to an end. 

In the meantime Paul was not inactive. In 
throwing the stone he had dropped the valise, but 
now this was again secured, and away he went 
into the woods as fast as his legs could carry 
him. 

In days gone by Paul had often hunted for 
birds and rabbits in this same territory, so he was 
not as much at a disadvantage as he might other- 
wise have been. Yet in the darkness he had 
many a dangerous tumble, and once he brought 
up against a tree trunk with such force that he 


38 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 


was almost stunned. But he kept on until he felt 
sure that he was safe from pursuit. 

Then he sat down on a fallen tree trunk to 
listen. Far away he heard a murmur of voices 
mingled with the rustling of the wind through the 
trees and the occasional cry of a night bird. But 
the voices came no nearer, and in less than half 
an hour died out altogether. 

Cold and hungry, Paul arose and continued on 
his way through the woods. If his heart had 
been heavy before, it was now like a lump of lead 
in his bosom. He was homeless, friendless, dol- 
larless, and the shadow of a crime hung over his 
fair name. 

“ Tough luck doesn’t describe it,” he mur- 
mured. ‘‘ But never mind, some day I’ll be in a 
position to defend myself, and then I’ll bring Hi- 
am Dunkirk to justice, see if I don’t! ” 

Feeling it would not be wise to show himself 
either in the vicinity of Stoneville or Tipton, Paul 
struck out for the town of Woburn, situated 
about twelve miles northwest of Boston. In this 
place of over fifteen thousand inhabitants he felt 
he would be, for a short time at least, safe. 

The tramp through the woods lasted the best 
part of an hour, when he struck the Woburn road 
at a point half a mile out of town. Here walk- 
ing was much easier, and he pushed on with in- 


A LEAP IN THE DARK. 


39 


creased speed until a cry from a distance attracted 
his attention. 

‘‘Help! Help! Thieves! Help!’^ 

The cry came from a tiny farmhouse, set in a 
cluster of apple trees. The voice was that of an 
elderly woman, and, without stopping to think 
twice, Paul dashed off in that direction, to ascer- 
tain what was the matter. 


CHAPTER VI. 


AN UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY. 

“ Help ! Help ! Stop, you thieves, or I will 
fire upon you ! ’’ 

“ Shut up, old woman ! There is nobody 
around here to help you, and if you don’t stop 
your cat-cries I’ll bind and gag you,” came the 
gruff answer from a burly rascal who had just 
entered the kitchen of the little farmhouse. 

But, sir, what do you want here ? ” trem- 
blingly asked the old woman, who was past sixty 
years of age. “ I have nothing here that is worth 
stealing.” 

“ Haven’t you, though ? ” put in a second fel- 
low, who had come in close behind his companion. 

We want you to give us some food, an’ be quick 
about it,” he added, with an ugly glance around. 

‘‘ I have but little in the house, but what there 
is you can have,” replied the old woman. “ There 
is some smoked meat, and some cold potatoes, and 
beans ” 

“ Hear her ! ” cried the leader of the pair. 
“ As if we would feed on cold pertaters, 
Wompy!” 


40 


AN- UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY. 


41 


We aint f cedin’ on pertaters — not when we 
have over four hundred dollars to burn, Muggs,” 
answered Wompy. ‘‘ Stir yer stumps, old 
woman, and get us the best feed the farm affords. 
Kill a chicken and make us some fresh bis- 
cuits, and ” 

“ Have ye got any liquor ? ” burst in Muggs. 

“ I’m powerful dry, I am.” 

“ There is no liquor in the house excepting a 
little cider, and that ” 

‘‘Trot out the cider, then; it’s better nor 
nuthin’. Hold on. I’ll scoot off and watch the 
neighbors,” went on Muggs. “ Wompy, jest 
take a look around while I’m gone,” he added, 
with a wink of his bleared black eye. 

“ I will, bet yer life,” said Wompy, and started * 
to walk through the kitchen to the parlor. 

As this movement meant nothing short of rob- 
bery, it aroused the old lady, whose name was 
Abigail Harrow. She was standing close to the 
big open fireplace, and, with remarkable quick- 
ness for one so old, she caught up the heavy fire- 
tongs and went after Wompy. 

“You shan’t rob me!” she shrieked, and 
brought down the fire-tongs upon Wompy’s head 
with such a force that the rascal dropped more 
than half senseless at her feet. 

But now Muggs sprang in, and was just about 
to catch Abigail Harrow by the throat, when he 


4 ^ THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

felt a strong, youthful hand on his shoulder and 
the next instant found himself tripped up and 
lying flat on his back, with Paul sitting on top of 
him. 

'' Oh ! ’’ he grunted. “ Let — let me up ! Who 
are you ? ” 

“ Never mind who I am,’' answered the boy. 
‘‘You keep still, unless you want to be hammered 
into submission. The idea of your coming in 
here to rob this old lady! Have you a rope, 
madam, so I can bind him ? ” 

“Yes! yes! Here is a washline!” burst in 
Abigail Harrow hastily. The unexpected en- 
trance of Paul had startled her, but his actions 
showed that he was friendly, and now was no time 
to ask questions. She threw the line in question 
to the boy, who essayed to bind Muggs’ hands be- 
hind him. 

This was no easy work, for Muggs, although 
nothing but a tramp, was tall and powerful. 
Over and over rolled the pair on the floor, until 
Abigail Harrow brought matters to a crisis by 
again using the fire-tongs and hitting Muggs a 
severe blow on the neck. This dazed the rascal, 
and in a minute more Paul had him tangled up in 
the washline and tied fast to a heavy oaken rock- 
ing chair. 

By this time Wompy was staggering to his feet. 
There was a wild glare in his bloodshot eyes, and 


AN UNPLEASANT DISCO PEP Y. 


43 


as quick as a flash he caught up a knife from the 
table. 

‘‘ ril fix yer fer dat ! ” he cried, and rushed first 
at the old woman, who retreated before him, and 
then at Paul, who he thought must be attached 
to the household. 

“ Stand back ! ” ordered Paul, and placed the 
kitchen table between himself and his would-be 
assailant. Glancing around for a weapon of 
some sort his e3^es alighted on a smoothing iron, 
and catching it up he let drive at Wompy’s 
head. His aim was true, and the fellow went 
down once more, but this time knocked out 
completely. 

“ Oh ! shrieked Abigail Harrow in alarm. 
“ I hope you haven’t killed him ! ” 

No, he’s far from dead,” answered Paul, also 
alarmed, and after a hasty examination. “ I 
guess we had better bind him, too, and then I’ll 
call in the nearest neighbor. These rascals ought 
to be lock ” 

Paul did not finish. In the struggle with 
Muggs a flat object had dropped from the rascal’s 
pocket. The youth caught sight of it, gave a 
cry, and leaping forward secured it. 

It was a long, old-fashioned pocketbook be- 
longing to Hiram Dunkirk ! 

Paul had seen the wallet a number of times, and 
knew it well. Like a flash he realized the truth. 


44 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


He pulled the pocketbook open. It was stuffed 
with ten- and twenty-dollar bills. 

“ Oh, my gracious, look at the money ! ” gasped 
Abigail Harrow, who had not seen so much cash 
before in her life. 

“ This money belongs to Hiram Dunkirk of 
Stoneville,” answered Paul soberly. “ His house 
was robbed only yesterday afternoon.” 

Hiram Dunkirk ? The man that was inter- 
ested in the stone quarries ? ” 

Yes.” 

‘‘ Pve heard of him. How do you know this 
pocketbook is his ? ” 

“ Pve seen the pocketbook before. He was 
robbed of four hundred and fifty dollars. Let us 
see if the entire amount is here.” 

Taking out the bills, Paul counted them rapidly, 
the old woman looking on with great interest. 
The four hundred and fifty dollars were intact. 

“ You must be right, young man. And to 
think these tramps did the deed! They’ll go to 
State’s prison for it. But you have helped me a 
splendid lot here, and I shan’t forget it of you. 
May I ask what your name is ? ” 

'' Paul Graham. Mr. Dunkirk, who was 
robbed, was my guardian.” 

“ Indeed I Then it will be a feather in your 
cap, this getting back his money for him.” 

“ That remains to be seen. Miss ” 


AN UNPLEASANT DISCO PEP V. 45 

Abagail Darrow, at your service/’ and the 
old woman made an old-fashioned courtesy. 

“ As I said, Miss Darrow, it remains to be seen. 
I don’t mind telling you that I have just run away 
from Mr. Dunkirk’s house. He accused me of 
stealing this very money I have just got back for 
him.” 

Abigail Darrow stared in amazement. 

“ Why, it’s like a story, Paul Graham ! And 
it’s just come out right, for now you can go back 
and ” 

‘‘ I shall never go back,” interrupted the youth 
firmly. “ He treated me worse than a dog, and 
now I intend to leave this neighborhood and fight 
my own way through the world.” 

“ But the money ” 

You can return that to him, and explain how 
it was recovered. Now I guess I had better go 
off after one of the neighbors before these ras- 
cals get into a fighting mood again.” 

At these words from Paul, Muggs braced up 
and opened the bleary eyes, which had been closed. 

“ See here, boy, I wants ter talk to yer afore ye 
go,” he muttered gruffly. 

“ So you’ve come around, have you? ” 

Yes, I have, an’ I wants ter know wot this 
fairy story about a pocketbook with money is.” 

“ It’s no fairy story, for I have the pocketbook 
and the money right here.” 


46 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ But you said somethin’ about the money bein’ 
stolen.” 

So it was — by you and your worthless com- 
panion.” 

“ See here, ye can’t shift that crime onto our 
shoulders. I don’t know nuthin’ about a pocket- 
book, nor any money either,” went on Muggs 
boldly. 

“ What! ” ejaculated Paul. 

Nary a word, an’ you can’t make us out sech 
thieves. Of course we came in here on that old 
lady, but that was only because we was starvin’ 
an’ wanted somethin’ to eat. Takin’ somethin’ 
to eat when yer stomach’s a-grumblin’ like all 
fury aint nigh so bad as robbin’ a gent of his 
money.” 

‘‘ But you dropped the pocketbook on the floor 
during our struggle,” insisted Paul. 

“ Not much I didn’t. That pocketbook fell 
from yer own pocket — I seed it with me own 
eyes, an’ me pard seen it too, I kin swear to it. 
Hi, Wompy!” 

“ Wha — what?” stammered the other tramp, 
who was just recovering. 

“ Dis young feller says we stole a pocketbook 
wid four hundred an’ fifty dollars in it. I say 
we don’t know anyt’in’ about it, an’ he must have 
stole it himself. Aint dat right ? ” 

Dat’s wot it is, Muggs. I never had no 


AN UNPLEASANT DISCOVERY. 


47 


pocketbook wid money in it,” answered Wompy. 
“We never took anyt’ing but grub in our whole 
lives.” 

Paul turned appealingly toward Abigail Dar- 
row. 

“ Miss Darrow, you saw me pick the pocket- 
book up from the floor, didn’t you ? ” he said. 

“ Oh, yes!” 

“ And you saw Muggs drop it, didn’t you ? ” 
went on the youth earnestly. 

- Well, I— I— no, I can’t say that I did,” fal- 
tered the old maid, and the reply caused Paul’s 
heart to sink as never before. Like a flash he 
realized that although the stolen money was re- 
covered, to prove his innocence would be impos- 
sible. 


CHAPTER VII. 


PAUL MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 

“ You didn’t see it? ” 

No, I did not. You see ” 

Hullo, there. Miss Harrow! What’s up? ” 

The call and question came from outside of the 
cottage. Much startled, Paul turned, and so did 
the woman, to discover two men standing near 
the partly open door. One of the newcomers held 
a heavy driving whip in his hand. 

“ Oh, Mr. Simonson, is it you? ” cried Abigail 
Harrow joyfully. Come in; you are much 
needed. Here are two tramps who came to rob 


Only came for somethin’ to eat,” whined 
Muggs, and Wompy muttered words to the same 
effect. 

Tramps, eh? ” said Ruel Simonson, who was 
a neighbor. “ It’s lucky I and Bob were driving 
past so early in the morning. I see you have one 
of ’em bound.” 

This young man did that. He helped me 
wonderfully,” answered Abigail Harrow. 

48 


FAC/L MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 49 

Why, it’s Paul Graham, the fellow who was 
arrested at Tipton last night!” ejaculated Bob 
Simonson, who, it may as well be stated, had at- 
tented the performance of “ Hazel Kirke ” and 
the dance that followed. “ How did you get 
off?” 

Paul’s face flushed. 

I was not guilty, and ran away. We have 
found Mr. Dunkirk’s money, which these tramps 
took,” he continued. 

We didn’t take the money — the boy stole it ! ” 
burst out Muggs. 

‘‘ Thet’s jest wot the boy did!” chimed in 
Wompy. 

Why, I — really — I don’t understand,” stam- 
mered Ruel Simonson. What money are you 
talking about ? ” 

This pocketbook full,” answered Abigail Har- 
row. “ After the struggles with the tramps Paul 
Graham picked it up from the floor. He says the 
tramps stole it, and they say he is guilty. For my 
part, I think the boy tells the truth.” 

'' Don’t you be too sure of that. Miss Harrow,” 
put in Bob Simonson. “ I was talking to Joel 
Burgess about the lad, and the cooper said he was 
a regular good-for-nothing, and Hiram Dunkirk 
was having more than his hands full with him. 
Like as not Dunkirk was right about the boy being 
the thief, and now he is sorry for his work, and is 


50 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

trying to shift the responsibility onto somebody 
else’s shoulders.” 

“ That’s it exactly ! ” cried Muggs, overjoyed 
to find a champion to help him out. “ You’ve 
struck the nail square on the head, boss. I’m 
only a poor man, traveling around lookin’ fer 
work, but I never stole anything in my life ex- 
ceptin’ something to eat, an’ yer can’t much blame 
a man fer that.” 

“ You make the boy come along, too, if you’re 
going to take us to the lock-up,” put in Wompy. 
“ There aint no doubt but wot you’ll find him the 
biggest criminal o’ the three.” 

“ Will you go along with us ? ” demanded Ruel 
Simonson, turning to Paul. 

The youth hesitated. If he went, how could 
he hope to clear himself, with everybody against 
him ? He shook his head. 

“No, I won’t go,” he answered, backing to- 
ward the door. “ Good-by, Miss Harrow. Some 
day I’ll prove my innocence.” And the next in- 
stant he was gone. 

Bob Simonson ran after him. But the young 
farmer was clumsy of foot and tired out after his 
many dances at the Tipton Hall, and Paul easily 
outdistanced him. Long before Woburn was 
reached the pursuer gave up the chase, and then 
Paul dropped into a walk. 

“ Put my foot into it again,” sighed the youth, 


PAUL MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 5 1 

as he entered the town. It does beat the nation 
what luck I am having. I wonder what Hiram 
Dunkirk will say when he gets his money back, 
ril wager he’ll be more sure than ever that I took 
it. I declare the miserly fellow don’t deserve to 
have a cent of it returned. For all I know, the 
money may belong to me. Certainly he has got 
some cash of mine. If only I could find out how 
niuch.” 

The main street of Woburn reached, Paul con- 
tinued on his way at a slower gait than ever. By 
a clock in a jeweler’s window he saw that it was 
a little after four in the morning. Here and 
there a milkman, baker, or huckster was stirring, 
but otherwise the town was still asleep. 

Being now more than hungry, he hailed a pass- 
ing baker and purchased from him several fresh 
rolls, which he devoured with avidity. It was not 
a heavy meal, but it was better than nothing, and 
once more Paul felt more like himself. Think- 
ing it would be folly to remain in Woburn, he 
struck out along the highway leading to Cam- 
bridge. 

He was just passing a hotel near the end of the 
town when a row on the piazza attracted his at- 
tention. Two waiters were running out an indi- 
vidual dressed in a suit of loud checks. The in- 
dividual wore patent-leather shoes, a mouse-col- 
ored derby hat, a flaring red necktie, and shirt, 


52 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

collar, and cuffs which were as stiff as a board 
and displayed nearly all the colors of the rain- 
bow. 

“ Now g'o along with you ! ” cried one of the 
waiters wrathfully. You can’t come any of 
your sly tricks on this establishment. Skip ! ” 

“ But, my dear man,” came in a rich, mellow 
voice from the person who was being bounced, 
this is extraordinary — simply extraordinary. 
Never before have I been thus shabbily treated, 
and ” 

We don’t want no more words,” put in the 
second waiter. “ The boss is onto you; so 
sneak ! ” 

Ah, well, such is life. We won’t quarrel, my 
dear fellows. I will go. But some day, when I 
have grown famous, when my name is in every 
newspaper and upon every lip, your unworthy 
master will be sorry he turned the cold shoulder 
to Horatio Calliwax, musician, impersonator, and 
master of the mysterious black art. Farewell, 
and may the dogs of war forgive you ! ” 

And having thus delivered himself, with many 
a wave of his long, bony hands, Horatio Calliwax 
strode away from the hotel, his head erect, his 
blue eyes flashing, and with every appearance of a 
well-to-do man of the word who had been unjustly 
used. 

Fifty steps away he almost bumped into Paul, 


PAUL MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 53 

who had paused to learn what was up and who 
the strange individual could be. 

“ Oh, ah, excuse me, my son,’’ said Horatio 
Calliwax, as he stared hard at Paul. Where — 
ah — where did you spring from?” 

“ I didn’t spring from anywhere — I was just 
walking along.” Paul could not suppress a grin. 

“ You are laughing at me, sir! Did you — ah 
— witness the outrageous scene just enacted upon 
yonder hotel piazza ? ” 

I did.” 

'' It was extraordinary — malicious, simply 
abominable I ” 

What did they eject you for? ” 

“ Ah, what for — that is the question. I have 
run short of cash, and as a small favor I requested 
the barkeeper to remember me for several drinks 
and the hotel keeper to furnish me with lodging 
until I should receive a remittance from New 
York. Neither would listen to me — and as I had 
had one drink they — they — well, you know the 
rest. It was simply atrocious ! ” 

Hard lines, that’s a fact.” 

“ Before I stopped here I thought it might be 
better to go right through to Boston,” continued 
the loudly-attired individual. “ I wish I had kept 
on — now,” and he put his hands behind him 
under his coat tails, where the toe of the hotel 
keeper’s boot had planted itself with much force. 


54 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

“ I am on my ^ay to Boston ! ” cried Paul, be- 
fore thinking twice. 

‘^Indeed? On foot?’’ 

'' Yes, unless I can catch a ride.” 

‘‘ Then, supposing we journey together — it will 
be more pleasant than striding on in solitude. I 
like company — ^bright faces, laughter, good times 
— and yet I am at times melancholy. But that 
is part of my nature, for I have seen many ups 
and downs in life, mostly downs, I must confess. 
My name is Horatio Calliwax, and I am an actor, 
musician, magician, juggler, and impersonator of 
well-known characters. I was lately attached to 
the Bushnell Extravaganza Combination, but we 
went to pieces at Lowell, and ever since I have 
been trying to make my way back to Boston or 
New York. Now, having so thoroughly intro- 
duced myself, may I ask who it is is going to 
honor me with his company on this pilgrim- 
age?” 

Paul laughed. “If it’s an honor to walk with 
me, all right,” he answered, and gave his name. 
“ I’m bound for Boston just to see if I can’t get 
something to do. I am something of a cornet and 
piano player, but I am willing to turn my hand to 
anything that is honest.” 

“ A professional like myself. Shake ! ” Ho- 
ratio Calliwax thrust out his hand. “ And both 
in misfortune — or you, too, would not be making 


PAUL MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 55 

the journey on foot. Ah, well, life is like a teeter- 
board, and if we are down at one end of it, we 
know that someone is up at the other. Let us 
shake the dust of this inhospitable town from our 
feet!’’ 

And linking his arm into that of Paul, Ho- 
ratio Calliwax strode off, and there was noth- 
ing left for Paul to do but to go with him. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


AN ENGAGEMENT IN BOSTON. 

Paul had not been walking with Horatio Cal- 
liwax more than an hour when he felt convinced 
that the rather singular man was on the whole a 
pretty good fellow. His dress and his manner 
were both against him, and yet, at the bottom, 
Calliwax had a good heart and was well-meaning 
to the last degree. His one weakness was to live 
well, even when down on his luck, and this had 
brought him into more than one serious difficulty. 
The way from Lowell to Woburn was strewn with 
hotel bills which the actor-musician meant to pay 
some day, but at present the man had not so much 
as a dime in his pocket. 

“ My effects were attached at Billerica,” he con- 
fessed. “ A trunk full of clothing, a magician’s 
outfit, and the alto horn which I blew in the band 
when we paraded the streets. It was too bad ! I 
tried to save them, especially the magician’s out- 
fit and the horn, but the hotelkeeper was stony- 
hearted and would not let them go.” 

It’s hard to lose your tools in trade,” an- 
swered Paul. “ I want to hang fast to my 
cornet.” 


AN ENGAGEMENT IN BOSTON, 57 

‘‘ Do you read music? 

‘‘ Oh, yes!’^ 

“ So do I, and that is more than can be said of 
most of those who were attached to the Bushnell 
Combination. Why, we had a bass player and a 
trombone player who ‘ vamped ’ something fear- 
ful to contemplate. They could only play six 
tunes, and so the whole band wasn’t allowed to 
play anything else.” Horatio Calliwax laughed 
lightly. “ If you read well, you ought to be able 
to get an opening in Boston.” 

“ I would like to join some band that travels. 
It seems to me it would be much more pleasant 
than to be stationed in one place.” 

It is — if you are certain you won’t be 
stranded, as I was. I am from New York, but I 
know a number of musical and theatrical people 
in Boston, and if I can do anything for you, com- 
mand me,” concluded Horatio Calliwax. 

By this time it was growing light and a num- 
ber of farm and other wagons began to show 
themselves on the road. Seeing this, Horatio 
Calliwax looked around, and, espying a bit of 
broken glass, picked it up. 

It shall provide us with a ride,” he said. And 
then, as Paul looked at him incredulously, he 
added : “ It is a trick I have played often — per- 
fectly harmless, and it never yet failed to work.” 

He stopped his companion at the roadside 


58 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

and watched while several wagons jogged by. 
Presently a large turnout hove in sight, drawn by 
two horses. On the seat sat a pleasant-faced 
man, who was more than half asleep. 

“ Hi, there, whoa ! ” called out Horatio Calli- 
wax, rushing forward and stopping the team. 
“What’s the matter with your horse, sir?” he 
asked, addressing the driver. 

“ Matter ? I don’t know,” stammered the man, 
rousing up. “ What is the matter ? ” 

By this time Horatio Calliwax was back of one 
of the animals and had raised a rear leg. He put 
down his hand and felt under the hoof. He pre- 
tended to pull away at something for several 
seconds, then held up the bit of broken glass. 

“By gosh!” ejaculated the countryman. 
“ Whar did Tom pick that up? Much obleeged 
to ye, stranger.” 

“ Not at all, sir,” answered Horatio Calliwax 
pleasantly. “ By the way, can you tell me and 
my friend how far it is to Cambridge ? ” 

“ Close on to five miles.” 

“ Are you going there? ” 

“ Ye-es.” And then, as the countryman noted 
how Horatio Calliwax looked at Paul in a hesitat- 
ing way, he continued : “ Want a ride? ” 

“ I don’t know as I would mind,” murmured 
the actor-musician, as though the thought was 
new to him. “ What do you say, Paul ? It’s 


AN ENGAGEMENT IN BOSTON. 


59 


nice enough to walk, but we are losing precious 
time, remember.” 

Better hop up,” went on the countryman, and 
in a moment Horatio Calliwax was in the wagon 
and Paul quickly followed. The boy did not dare 
look Calliwax in the face for fear of laughing 
outright over the rather questionable trick which 
had been played. 

Long before noon they entered Cambridge, and 
here the countryman dropped them off on a main 
street corner. Walking down this street to the 
Charles River, they crossed the West Boston 
bridge, and half an hour later were in the heart of 
the Hub. 

'' Let us walk over to the Globe Theater,” said 
Horatio Calliwax. I have a friend in the 
vicinity who is connected with a musical bureau. 
Perhaps he can put us on the track of an engage- 
ment.” 

Paul was willing, and walking down Joy Street 
they crossed the beautiful Common and made 
their way to the theater mentioned. The musical 
bureau was but a few doors up the block, on the 
third story of a handsome stone building. They 
soon gained the place, and Horatio Calliwax asked 
for Mr. Lewis Bardbury. 

No longer connected with this bureau,” an- 
swered the clerk in charge. “ And I can’t tell 
you where he is,” he continued, before the actor- 


6o 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTEE, 


musician could ask any further questions. The 
clerk was busy, and with heavy hearts Calliwax 
and Paul descended into the street. 

“ First failure,’’ sighed the boy. “ Now what’s 
to do?” 

“ Thrown, but not vanquished,” smiled Ho- 
ratio Calliwax. “ Come on up to the theatrical 
agencies.” 

During the next two hours four agencies were 
visited. At one place Calliwax met several men 
who knew him. But these men could not help 
him, nor had they anything to offer Paul. At the 
other places they were told that no openings were 
on the books. 

“ It looks black, I must confess,” said Horatio 
Calliwax. But do not despair — the skies will 
yet brighten.” He looked at Paul hesitatingly. 
“ I am getting hungfy. You haven’t — ah — the 
price of a dinner for both of us with you, have 
you ? ” 

“ I’ve got sixty-five cents, all told. I’m will- 
ing to spend thirty cents of it — fifteen apiece. 
The rest we had best save for future use.” 

“Good; I see you are a financier, which I 
never was. Come on — I know a cheap restaur- 
ant, where food is good,” and Calliwax led the 
way without delay. The restaurant was on a side 
street, close to the doors of a variety theater. 

While the two were stowing away some beef 


AN ENGAGEMENT IN BOSTON. 


6i 


and beans, and washing it down with coffee, their 
attention was attracted to the somewhat excited 
talking going on between three men who sat at a 
table near by. 

“ I won’t play cornet for him any more, unless 
he throws off that fine,” one man was saying. I 
wasn’t any more drunk than he was.” 

Carson is too dictatorial,” put in a second 
man. “ He has got a pretty good act, and it has 
given him the swelled head.” 

‘‘ He won’t find anybody to assist him as I 
have done,” went on the first man, who was even 
now more than half tipsy. 

‘‘ The trouble is with Hicks, the manager. 
What right had he to discharge me? Lots of 
actors have smoked in the wings before this.” 

And so the grumbling went on, Paul and Ho- 
ratio Calliwax listening with increased interest. 
As soon as the meal was disposed of the actor- 
musician tapped Paul on the arm. 

“Come on; I think I scent an opening, and 
there is nothing like being the first man on the 
ground,” he whispered, and the two left the res- 
taurant as quickly as they could. 

“ Hicks is the manager of the variety house 
close by,” explained Calliwax. “ Those men 
have been discharged for cause. Let us go and 
see Hicks and the man Carson they mentioned.” 

They walked around to the stage door. 


62 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


Luckily, Maurice Hicks was on hand. Although 
an utter stranger, Calliwax grasped him warmly 
by the hand. 

Don’t you remember me, Mr. Hicks ? ” he 
said. “ I used to be with the Oriental Specialty 
Company and with Dan Leary’s Burlesquers — 
played to crowded houses in Boston three years 
ago. My name is Horatio Calliwax, and this is 
my friend Paul Graham. He is a cornet player 
and I am an all-round actor, magician, musician^ 
and impersonator. We heard something about 
an opening here, and dropped in to see what our 
chances might be.” 

Horatio Calliwax could put on a good front ” 
when necessary, and his earnest manner was quite 
impressive. Maurice Hicks scratched his head, 
and then sent for Andrew Carson, a high-class 
variety performer. Soon the particulars of what 
the newcomers could do were ascertained in de- 
tail. Carson took Paul to one side. 

'' I don’t know but what you are the boy I’ve 
been looking for,” he said. “ I had a man help- 
ing me, but he got drunk. I like a boy better. I 
do some juggling with a lot of brass instruments, 
and then play on one after another, and my assist- 
ant helps me. I’ll try you and give you eight 
dollars a week. Come on the stage.” 

A rehearsal was soon in full swing. What 
Paul was called on to do was easy, and Carson 


AN ENGAGEMENT IN BOSTON. 63 

commented favorably on his playing. “ That’s 
all,” said the variety performer. “ Be on hand 
at six-thirty sharp to-night.” 

The two had left the stage during this conver- 
sation and were now in a little side room, piled 
high with stage property. At one end was a win- 
dow, looking out on a yard back of the restaurant. 
As Paul happened to glance toward the window 
he saw a man peering in at him. The fellow was 
the cornet player Carson had discharged. His 
face was full of chagrin and hatred, and ere the 
man disappeared he shook his fist at Paul. 

“ He’ll be no friend to me,” thought the boy; 
and a minute later joined Horatio Calliwax. The 
actor-magician had managed to get an opening as 
an impersonator at twelve dollars per week, for 
two weeks, and was correspondingly happy. 

The only thing that will bother me is my 
make-ups,” he said. “ But I think I can fix that 
up with some costumer until I get my pay and can 
send for my trunk,” and this was what he did be- 
fore the time for opening up arrived. 

Paul was very much worried over the thought 
of how both might live until they received their 
first pay, but this question was also settled by 
Calliwax. 

“ You must have some clothing in that valise 
that you don’t need. Why not pawn them ? ” 

'' I’ll h^ve to/’ answered Paul; and his newly 


64 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

made friend showed him where a pawnshop was 
and how to make the best ‘‘ dicker ” for what 
could be spared. 

At six o’clock Paul found himself on the way 
to the variety theater. Horatio Calliwax had left 
him, to prepare himself for his own opening, 
which he felt must make a hit if he wished to re- 
tain his position even for the two weeks. 

As Paul walked through the crowded streets 
his thoughts were so busy he did not notice the 
man who was following him. The individual 
was the half-drunken cornetist. His face was 
darker than ever, and concealed under the edge of 
his coat he carried a wicked-looking sandbag. 

I’ll teach the cub to take my job away from 
me ! ” he muttered, as he slunk along. I’ll fix 
him, or else my name aint Sandy Bowen ! He’ll 
never perform in that theater to-night ! ” 


CHAPTER IX. 


A BLOW IN THE DARK. 

All unconscious that he was being followed 
by the enraged cornetist, Paul continued on his 
way until the corner opposite to the theater was 
reached. Here was situated an old building, used 
as a wholesale grocery, and in front were piled a 
number of soap boxes and barrels of flour, cov- 
ered wth tarpaulins. 

As the youth paused in the shadow of the boxes 
Sandy Bowen slunk up closer. Glancing around 
to make sure he was not observed, he drew forth 
the sandbag and swung it in the air. Then with 
a swish it came down, landing partly upon Paul’s 
neck and partly upon his shoulder. There was a 
faint moan, and the youth fell over like one dead. 

'' Ha ! I thought that would fetch him,” mut- 
tered the rascal who had struck the fearful blow. 
He looked around again. Still no one was near. 
He lifted up one end of the tarpaulin, shoved the 
limp body up on several boxes, and let the coarse 
covering fall upon it. He’ll be safe there till the 
truckers come around in the morning,” he went 
on, and glided off, secreting his sand-bag as he 
went. 


66 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


Half-past six came and went, and Carson 
looked in vain for his new assistant. Then Ho- 
ratio Calliwax came in and was appealed to. 

“ I thought Paul would get here before me,” 
said the actor. “ He said he was due at six- 
thirty, and it’s fully seven now.” 

“ Another one not to be depended upon,” 
grumbled Carson. The Old Nick take the luck ! 
Hicks, can’t somebody from the orchestra help 
me out for one night ? ” 

The matter was hastily discussed, and a cornet 
player was summoned. He was an elderly man, 
and not very bright, but Carson drilled him in as 
well as he was able. At eight o’clock the curtain 
went up as usual and the audience was none the 
wiser. 

Much to his credit, Calliwax made a decided 
hit. He impersonated several well-known 
national characters, men and women, and then, 
after a brief pause, came out as the then Mayor 
of Boston. For this impersonation he had pre- 
pared a monologue full of local hits, and this 
brought down the house. 

“ That’s all right,” said Hicks briefly. This 
was as much as he praised any actor. But it was 
enough for Ploratio Calliwax, and, feeling assured 
that his position was safe for sometime to come, 
his spirits rose accordingly. 

Nevertheless, he was much disturbed ov^r 


A BLOW IN THE DARK, 


67 


Paul’s non-appearance. In the short time he had 
known the lad he had taken a great fancy to him. 
Added to this was the fact that Paul had on his 
person the four dollars and fifty cents received 
from the pawnbroker on the contents of the valise. 
If Paul was not found, Horatio Calliwax would 
for the time being be left penniless. 

It’s funny he didn’t turn up,” mused the 
actor. I wonder if anything could have hap- 
pened to him? I hope not.” 

The performance over, Horatio Calliwax stood 
around a bit to gossip with the other performers. 
He had a faint hope, it must be confessed, that 
someone would invite him out to a midnight sup- 
per, or at least to a social glass, but the invitation 
was not forthcoming, and he left the building 
alone. 

He had no place in particular to go to, and half 
unconsciously crossed the street and came to a 
halt on the very corner where Paul had been so 
cruelly assaulted. 

If I only knew where to look for him,” he mur- 
mured, as he leaned up against a barrel. “ But 
looking for anybody in a city the size of Boston 
is like looking for a needle in a haystack. I won- 
der if it’s possible that guardian of his discovered 
him and took him back to Stoneville ? ” 

At that instant Horatio Calliwax felt the tar- 
paulin beside him move. The rnovement of the 


68 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


coarse cloth was followed by a low moan of 
pain. 

‘‘Hi! Hullo! what’s this?” ejaculated the 
actor, and started back. “ Somebody is under 
there, sure, and in pain.” He caught the cover 
and lifted it up. “ Paul, by all that’s marvelous ! 
This is simply extraordinary! Paul, my boy, 
what’s the matter with you ? ” 

Another groan was the only reply, and now Cal- 
liwax noticed that the youth’s collar was stained 
with blood. Much alarmed, he raised the boy up, 
and at the same time Paul opened his eyes. 

“ Who — who struck me ? ” he asked feebly, and 
closed his eyes again. 

“ That’s what I w’ould like to know. Gracious ! 
but you must have been shamefully abused. Was 
it a footpad, do you think? ” 

“ I — I don’t know. I was hurrying to the 
theater when I got a blow there,” Paul raised his 
hand feebly to his neck, “ and then — then I guess 
I lost my senses. It’s most time to get ready for 
the performance, isn’t it? ” 

“ The performance is over.” 

“ Oh ! ” Paul gave a gasp. “ Have I lain 
-here as long as that? What will they think of 
me?” 

“ Can you stand up ? ” questioned Horatio Cal- 
liwax tenderly. 

Paul tried to do as requested, but was too 


A BLOW IN THE DARN. 


69 


weak. Seeing this, the actor caught the boy up 
in his strong arms and carried him over to the 
playhouse. 

A few of the actors and the janitor still lin- 
gered about, and to these was related what had 
occurred. Actors are proverbially kind-hearted, 
and one at hand agreed to do all he could for Paul. 
The janitor lived not a great distance away, and 
it was to his house that the boy was taken. A 
doctor was sent for and he was made as comfort- 
able as circumstances permitted. 

To those who came to see him, Paul told of 
how Sandy Bowen had shaken his fist through the 
open window and it was agreed that the cornetist 
must be guilty. A search was made for him, but 
he could not be found. The fact of the matter 
was that after Bowen had sobered up he had be- 
come alarmed over his act and taken a train for 
New York. There he thought he was safe, but 
he and Paul were destined to meet again. 

It was not until three days later that Paul felt 
strong enough to go on the stage. Even then he 
was rather light-headed. But he was anxious to 
earn something, and so did not heed the advice 
given him by Calliwax and the actor that had be- 
friended him, who had now gone away. 

The first portion of his work with Carson 
passed off fairly well. But as he warmed up the 
youth began to feel dizzy, and when it came to 


70 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


playing a rapid duet, with some triple-tonguing 
in it, he swayed from side to side. He was just 
on the wind-up, with a flourish, and the audience 
had begun to applaud, when all became black be- 
fore his eyes and he staggered back against a 
table, knocking it over and scattering Carson’s 
traps to the four corners of the stage. A quick 
ring from the stage manager brought down the 
drop curtain in the nick of time. 

“ You can’t go on the stage with me again,” 
said Carson, when it was all over and Paul had 
recovered. “ I must have an assistant I can de- 
pend upon. I’m sorry for you, but your condi- 
tion is not my fault. Here are a couple of dollars 
for to-night’s work.” 

Paul’s face grew hot as fire. I — I did my 
best,” he said. “ I suppose I shouldn’t have gone 
on for a few days yet. Can’t you give me a 
chance later on ? ” 

No. I’ve got the opportunity to get a boy 
who used to perform with me, and I’m going to 
take it. Here are the two dollars.” 

Paul shoved the money back. You can keep 
it — and thank you, for nothing,” he said coldly, 
and two minutes later he had quitted the theater. 

Perhaps he was wrong in speaking thus, but it 
must be remembered that he was sick, faint at 
heart, and that he had tried his level best to do the 
>vork assigned hirn, 


A BLOIV IN THE DARK. 


71 


He was standing on the street corner when Ho- 
ratio Calliwax joined him. 

“ I don’t blame you, Paul — not a bit — for Car- 
son didn’t treat you fairly,” began the actor. 
“ But now you’re out of it, and most all of them 
are down on you. And I’ve got my walking 
papers, too,” he added bitterly. 

‘‘You! For what? You made a splendid 
hit,” burst out Paul. 

“ So I did — straight from the shoulder.” 

“ I don’t understand.” 

“ That fellow, Curley, the juggler, said some- 
thing about your being no good, and playing oflF, 
and on the impulse of the moment I knocked him 
down. Some of his friends leaped on me, and 
we had a rough-and-tumble for five minutes. 
Hicks came in right in the middle of it, and I was 
liquidated with and discharged.” 

“ Oh, Calliwax, on my account ! ” Paul 
caught his friend by the arm. “ It’s too bad I I 
didn’t want to drag you into my troubles.” 

“ Your troubles are mine, Paul. Haven’t we 
sworn friendship — everlasting friendship ? ” 

“ We have— but ” 

“ Exactly. So we stand or fall together. 
Never mind; as one star sets, another rises, so do 
not despair. In the meantime, however, where 
are we to repose this night ? ” 

“ I don’t know.” 


72 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

“ How much capital has this company still left 
to it?” 

“ A dollar and fifteen cents.” 

Not a large amount, truly, yet enough to give 
us shelter and food for a day or more. Let us 
seek the cheapevSt hotel we can find.” 

A quarter of an hour later a hotel was found at 
which they could get beds for the night for 
twenty-five cents each. The place was by no 
means of the best, but it looked clean and 
fairly comfortable, and they were in no position 
to demand anything better. 

Pay in advance, please,” said the clerk at the 
desk, and Horatio Calliwax turned to Paul. The 
lad placed his hand in his pocket and grew pale. 
The dollar bill he had possessed was gone! 


CHAPTER X. 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 

It^s gone ! ’’ 

“ Gone ! What ? ” 

‘‘ The dollar bill I had ! ’’ 

“Impossible!” ejaculated Horatio Calliwax, 
and now he was for once thoroughly disconcerted. 

“Yes, it’s gone,” groaned Paul, and he felt in 
one pocket after another. He did not know that 
it had slipped from his pocket when he had fallen 
on the stage. “ I’ve got the fifteen cents, and 
that’s all.” 

“ This is truly unfortunate,” sighed the actor. 
He turned to the hotel clerk. “ My friend had a 
dollar bill, but in some mysterious manner it has 
disappeared. Cannot you trust us until the 
morning, when I will have some money coming 
to me from the variety theater four blocks below 
here?” 

To this request the hotel clerk offered a stony 
stare. Then he raised his hand and jerked his 
thumb toward the door. 

“ It don’t work here; my boy. Git ! ” 

“ But, sir ” 


73 


74 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 

'' Git, both of you, or I’ll call the bouncer.” 

“ Come, Paul, he won’t trust us. In the future 
we will patronise only such hotels as have clerks 
that can recognize gentlemen when they see them,” 
and out hurried Horatio Calliwax, just in time 
to escape a directory which the clerk flung at his 
head. Paul lost no time in following his strange 
friend. 

‘‘If only I had what is coming to me from 
Hicks,” sighed Calliwax. “ But he doesn’t pay 
until ten a. m. to-morrow, and in the meantime — 
ha, an idea strikes me; why not? ” 

“ Why not what?” 

“ We will go to another hotel and put up our 
pawn tickets for security. Come, I am sure I 
can work it.” 

Again they tramped on. It was now past mid- 
night, and Paul was so faint again he could hardly 
stand. Soon another cheap hotel was reached, 
and Horatio Calliwax proceeded to make his “ ar- 
rangements,” as he termed it. The clerk was a 
kind-hearted fellow, and seeing Paul’s condition, 
accepted the pawn tickets without hesitation. 

“ Maybe I’m stuck, but I’ll risk it,” he said, and 
a quarter of an hour later Calliwax and Paul wore 
in bed and sound asleep. 

Paul was up and dressed at six o’clock. Ho- 
ratio Calliwax still snored the snore of the just. 
The boy dug him in the ribs. 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 


75 


Calliwax!^^ 

Wha — what’s up ? ” 

‘‘ I am, and you ought to be.” 

‘‘ What time is it ? ” 

‘‘ Going on seven o’clock.” 

‘‘ That’s not late.” 

“ And it’s not too early for two fellows who 
have their fortunes to make,” answered Paul. 

By the hour named both were below. A break- 
fast on fifteen cents was out of the question, and 
they contented themselves with some fresh rolls 
and cakes purchased at a bakery on a side street. 
Horatio Cal li wax would have preferred to get 
drinks at a nearby saloon and patronize the free- 
lunch counter, but Paul would not listen to it. 

The meager breakfast disposed of, they started 
out to look for new situations. Half of the morn- 
ing was consumed in tramping from one place to 
another without success, and then Horatio Calli- 
wax headed for the variety theater, from which ♦ 
he had been so summarily dismissed. 

When he returned to Paul his face was longer 
than ever. 

“ Didn’t get a dollar ! ” he burst out. Hicks 
says he had to call in a doctor for one of the chaps 
I knocked down, and if I want any money for my 
work, I can sue for it. Paul, we are hitting the 
most extraordinary hard luck to be found in the 
universe.” 


•j6 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

“ Words don’t do justice to it,” answered the 
youth seriously. ‘‘ One thing is certain, we must 
do something, or starve.” 

ril run my face at some hotel before I’ll 
starve,” answered Horatio Calliwax. 

Paul did not doubt but that the actor meant 
what he said. But as for the boy, to “ sponge ” 
upon others was something he would never con- 
sider. 

The noon hour came and went, and still noth- 
ing in the shape of an opening occurred. Four 
o’clock found them standing on the corner of 
Washington and Franklin streets, thoroughly dis- 
couraged. 

I’d give all I’m worth to be back in New 
York,” sighed Horatio Calliwax. “ There, at 
least, I have some friends to whom I can turn.” 

“ I don’t know where I would like to be,” an- 
swered Paul. “ Probably I’d be as well off at the 
bottom of the sea,” he added bitterly, for the 
tramping around had made him hungrier than 
ever, and he was growing just a bit desperate. 

‘‘ Why, Paul Graham, where did you come 
from?” 

The hearty voice sounded close to Paul’s shoul- 
der, and the next moment the lad found himself 
confronted by Anderson Powell, his former music 
teacher. The face of the teacher was full of 
wonder. 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 


n 


Mr. Powell ! gasped the youth, more than 
half joyfully. He instinctively felt that this man 
would help him. Then followed a brisk hand- 
shaking, and Horatio Calliwax was introduced. 

“ On acount of my brother’s serious sickness I 
came down to Boston in a hurry the other day,” 
explained Anderson Powell. “ I was so upset 
that I didn’t notify any of my pupils that lessons 
would have to come to an end for the present. 
But what brought you, Paul? Are you visiting 
some old friends? ” 

“ I haven’t any old friends in Boston any more, 
Mr. Powell. The two families we used to be inti- 
mate with have both moved away. No, I came 
to strike out for myself. To tell the truth, I cut 
sticks and run away.” 

‘‘Really! What for?” 

“ Because Mr. Dunkirk treated me so meanly. 
He didn’t want me to learn to play, and he wanted 
me to give up schooling and go to work for that 
miserly Joel Burgess, and at last he accused me 
of stealing a lot of money,” blurted out Paul; and 
then, seeing there was no help for it, he told his 
story from beginning to end, aided in the latter 
portion by many interruptions from Horatio 
Calliwax. 

Anderson Powell listened with close attention. 
He took a deep interest in Paul, not only because 
the lad had proved such an apt pupil on the cornet, 


78 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


but because he was so frank and free in all he said 
and did. Moreover, he knew just what Hiram 
Dunkirk was, and what the man had been, which 
was more. 

And so you and your friend are without 
funds ? he said, when both had finished. 
“ Well, that’s hard lines and no mistake. But it 
is easily remedied.” He took out his pocketbook. 
“Here are ten dollars, Paul; that ought to be 
sufficient for immediate expenses.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Powell, will you lend me that ! ” cried 
the youth joyfully. 

“ I’ll give it to you, Paul, if you’ll accept. It 
ought to see you both through for a few days, and 
after that perhaps I can offer both of you an open- 
ing.” 

“An opening?” queried the lad, and Horatio 
Calliwax became more interested than ever. 

“ Yes, although I’m not sure yet. You see, 
it’s this way. My brother was the leader of the 
Golden Cornet Band, which has given concert 
tours throughout the States for three seasons in 
connection, of course, with other attractions. 
During the season just opening the band was to 
travel with Thompson’s Star Entertainers, open- 
ing next Monday night at Bridgeport. Now my 
brother is flat on his back, and instead of trusting 
a stranger to take his place he wants me to travel 
with the band, not only to lead, but also to look 


A FRIEND IN NEED. 


79 


after his one-half interest in the entire organiza- 
tion/’ 

“ I see,” interrupted Paul excitedly. “ And if 
you go, will you take me as a member of the band ? 
It is just what I’ve been looking for.” 

Such an idea has just crossed my mind. 
Whether or not it can be arranged, remains to be 
seen. I must say, if I go on the tour, I would 
like very well to have you with me. As to your 
friend, perhaps he can arrange for an opening 
with Thompson, who, I believe, has been disap- 
pointed by several parties who intended to travel 
with him.” 

I will see Thompson at once ! ” burst in Calli- 
wax. “ Where can I find him ? ” 

At the Revere House, or at Danzell’s agency. 
But you had better wait until I can go with you,” 
concluded Anderson Powell, and, seeing the wis- 
dom of this, Calliwax agreed. 

To go into all the details of what followed is 
not necessary. Paul and Calliwax returned with 
Powell to the hotel at which the music professor 
and his sick brother were stopping, and here a 
long conversation ensued, interrupted by visits 
from members of the Golden Cornet Band, and 
by a call from Thompson, the manager. 

The upshot of the whole matter was that An- 
derson Powell became the leader of the band and 
also manager for his brother, and that Paul was 


8o 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


assigned to a place in the band as second B-flat 
cornet player, at a salary of twelve dollars per 
week and all traveling expenses. As for Horatio 
Calliwax, a notice in a morning paper regarding 
his hit at the variety theater the night previous 
pleased Thompson so much that he agreed to give 
the impersonator a trial during the opening week, 
with a fair salary for the balance of the tour, if 
satisfactory. 


CHAPTER XL 


THE OPENING AT BRIDGEPORT. 

Well, to-night will tell the tale.’’ 

It was Paul who spoke. The Golden Cornet 
Band and Thompson’s Star Entertainers had ar- 
rived in Bridgeport on an early morning train 
and put up at a hotel overlooking the broad waters 
of the Sound. The combination numbered 
twenty musicians and twelve performers, and a 
rehearsal had been called at ten o’clock sharp. 

During the past few days Paul had applied him- 
self as never before. Anderson Powell had 
loaned him a beautiful gold-plated cornet, and 
also supplied him with a book containing all of 
the pieces the band intended to play while on the 
tour, and hour after hour had been spent, alone 
and with the other players, in getting each air 
‘'down fine.” 

Some of the older members of the band were 
inclined to sniff at the lad at first, but this feeling 
against Paul wore away when they saw what a 
natural musician he was and how earnestly he 
took hold. 

“ He VOS all right, alretty,” said Bunglemann, 


82 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


the bass player, who manipulated a shiny horn, 
which wound itself several times around his fat 
body. ' “ Vait till he vos a mans, und sum odder 
cornet blayers vot I know von’t be in it mid him, 
aint it ! ” 

Bunglemann was a character. He was a short 
fellow, weighing nearly two hundred pounds, and 
a great talker. Years before he had belonged to 
a celebrated band in Berlin, Germany, and he 
never tired of telling stories of “ der Faderland.” 
He and Paul were soon on the best of terms. 

Through a loan made by Anderson Powell, Ho- 
ratio Calliwax had secured the trunk attached at 
Billerica, and also some of his other effects, and 
Paul had got back his valise, with the clothing, 
pawned in Boston. Calliwax rehearsed as hard 
as the boy, determined to make even a greater hit, 
if possible, than that secured at the Hub. 

Give me a small city for an appreciative audi- 
ence,” he said to Paul. I would rather play to 
such people as we shall meet here than any crowd 
you can gather in Boston, New York, or Phila- 
delphia. Why, in some of the big places the 
audience seems to be afraid to let itself loose, and 
how can a fellow do his best when they refuse to 
warm up ? ” And this remark, often made by 
professional players, Paul found out later was 
largely true. 

The show had been advertised for a week 


THE OPENING AT BRIDGEPORT. 83 

ahead, and when the doors opened there were 
several hundred people waiting to gain admission, 
the majority of the crowd going upstairs into the 
gallery. Later on came those who had purchased 
reserved seats. By eight o’clock the house was 
three-quarters full, and people were still drifting 
in. 

'' Not a packed house, but a fairly good one,” 
said Anderson Powell. “ Of course, a good part 
of those present came in on paper,” meaning that 
the people mentioned had not paid their way, but 
had come in on complimentary tickets given for 
hanging up advertising matter. 

The first number on the programme was a piece 
by the Golden Cornet Band. Two rows of chairs 
had been arranged in semicircles on the stage, 
and Paul found himself, with the other cornet 
players, in the middle of the first row, with an 
E-flat cornet player on one side of him, and a 
clarionet player on the other. In front of all was 
a small raised platform, with a music stand, for 
the leader. 

The band wore a taking uniform, consisting of 
white trousers and vest and deep blue coat, 
trimmed in red. This uniform, along with the 
golden instruments, made a decidedly brilliant 
appearance, and when the curtain went up there 
was a round of applause. 

A second later Professor Powell made his ap- 


84 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


pearance with a bow. Baton in hand, he as- 
cended the platform and looked at the players. 
All were in readiness, and down came the stick, 
and with a grand musical crash the overture to 
the evening’s entertainment was begun. 

It was a lively, catchy air, full of brilliant pass- 
ages for each instrument in turn, and went more 
than well. When the end came there was a loud 
clapping of hands and a stamping of feet, and 
the number had to be repeated. 

“ We’re all right on that,” said Harry Stone, 
the coronet player who sat beside Paul. Now, 
let us see how we make out with Miss Donati.” 

Miss Donati was Thompson’s leading lady 
singer, and she came next on the programme, so 
that she might have the band to accompany her. 
She sang first an operatic selection, which went 
fairly well, and then a popular ballad, and this 
took the house by storm, and had to be repeated 
twice. 

When next the curtain went up the audience 
found the stage cleared of all but a small center 
table piled high with various wigs and mustaches, 
a small mirror and half a dozen other odds and 
ends. Before the table stood Horatio Calliwax, 
attired in a regulation full-dress suit. 

Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, bowing and 
smiling to the right and the left, with your kind 
permission I will give you a few impersonations 


THE OPENING AT BRIDGEPORT. 


85 


of characters whom I trust all will recognize. 
My first impersonation will be that of our late 
President.” 

He darted toward the table and busied himself 
for ten seconds among the articles lying there. 
Then his face and breast swelled out to their full 
extent, and he strode forward with a loud ahem, 
and bowed and smiled again. 

Hullo, Grover Cleveland ! ” came from the 
gallery, and a laugh went up, showing the audi- 
ence was well pleased. 

Next came impersonations of other Presidents, 
and of a Governor or two, and then Horatio Calli- 
wax started in on the comics. 

Begorra, Oi just kem over from Limerick,” 
he blubbered, as he came out in a droll Irish char- 
acter. '' On the dock I met a mon that axed me 
to collect a bill of twinty dollars fer him. Oi let 
him kape me bundle as security, an’ Oi haven’t 
been able to run acrost the mon since. If Oi do 
he’ll wisht he was dead before we mate, belave 
me ! ” and another laugh went up. 

Haf anypoddy seen dot dorg of mine?” he 
wen on, coming out in the character of a German 
Hebrew. He’s a skvare-legged leetle fellow, 
mid his ears cut short und his tail cut long. Der 
last I seen of him he runt into der corner putcher 
shop. I VOS dink to puy me some sausages py dot 
putcher shop, but now I vas suspicious,” and the 


86 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


laugh that followed showed that this humor went 
as well as the others. He gave several other im- 
personations, and wound up as a plantation 
darkey, attempting several tricks he had seen per- 
formed by a juggler. The tricks, of course, 
would not work at first, which made the audience 
howl over the darkey’s dismay, but in the end 
Calliwax showed what he really could do, and 
when the curtain went down the impersonator 
had to come out and bow his thanks for the audi- 
ence’s appreciation. 

“ You’ve made the hit of the evening! ” cried 
Paul, as he came up to his friend. “ I was watch- 
ing you, from the wings, and I nearly laughed 
myself sick. 

Thompson also was well satisfied. That night 
he offered Calliwax a regular engagement for the 
toiir at thirty dollars per week, and Calliwax ac- 
cepted. 

The other numbers on the programme were also 
well received. Especially was this true of the 
final number of the band, a potpourri of operatic 
selections. In this Paul and Harry Stone had a 
duet for two cornets, and nothing could have been 
better than the youth’s smooth and tasteful play- 
ing. The duet was encored twice, and the two 
players were forced to get up and bow, so gener- 
ous was the applause. All around, the evening’s 
entertainment had proved an unqualified success. 


THE OPENING AT BRIDGEPORT. 87 

The organization was booked to remain in 
Bridgeport three nights, and on the second and 
third nights the theater was jammed, for the local 
critics had given all a splendid puff in the papers. 
The success pleased Anderson Powell as much as 
anyone, and he lost no time in writing to his 
brother, stating all particulars. 

Since Paul had joined the band he had been 
longing to ask the professor about many affairs of 
the past. But he saw how busy Anderson Powell 
was trying to fill his brother's place, and so he 
waited for a more seasonable opportunity. This 
came when the organization left Bridgeport for 
a three days' appearance at Hartford, previous to 
a two weeks' run in New York. Paul managed 
to get into the same seat in the car with Powell 
and broached the subject while the train was 
speeding in the direction of New Haven. 

“Well, Paul, Pm afraid I can't tell you as much 
as you would like to know," said the professor, 
stroking his chin reflectivey. “ At the time of 
your father's death I know he did hold stock in 
the quarry company to the amount of ten thou- 
sand dollars or more. Of course, the stock went 
down when the company got into financial diffi- 
culties, but Hiram Dunkirk must have got some- 
thing out of the final settlement." 

“ Well, who knows anything about this settle- 
ment ? " questioned the youth. 


88 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


There was a man named Barret Radley who 
knew all about the quarry affairs. But Radley, 
Fve been told, went to Cape Town, Africa.” 

“ Was there anybody else ? ” 

“ Joel Burgess knew a good deal.” 

“ That won’t help me any. He is hand-in- 
glove with Hiram Dunkirk.” 

“ True. I’ll tell you what you might do. 
Write a letter to Barret Radley and send it to 
Cape Town. It’s a good deal of a venture, but 
it’s better than nothing.” 

“ I’ll do it just as soon as we get to Hartford,” 
answered Paul. 

On and on rushed the long train through a 
heavy mist which had swept in from Long Island 
Sound. New Haven was soon passed, and the 
next stopping place would be Meriden. The 
mists grew thicker, shutting out the ever-varying 
landscape. 

“ I don’t like traveling in this sort of weather,” 
observed Anderson Powell, with a shake of his 
head. “ The engineer and fireman can’t see the 
signals very well, and there’s no telling what is 
ahead.” 

We’ll be in Hartford in a little over half an 
hour,” returned Paul. And then, unable to see 
anything but mist and rain, he settled back in the 
cushioned seat and gave himself up to his reflec- 
tions. 


THE OPENING AT BRIDGEPORT. 89 

On the whole, his thoughts were rather pleas- 
ant. He was now clear of Hiram Dunkirk’s 
clutches, and even if his father’s estate did not 
bring him in any great amount of money, he had 
a good position, and he intended to strive in his 
profession until the topmost rung was gained and 
he had become either a leading player or a band- 
master. He would not let Hiram Dunkirk off 
easily, he promised himself that, when the time 
of reckoning came. 

Suddenly a shiver and a bump threw him from 
his seat and smashed the window glass beside him. 
Then came a tremendous shock, followed by an- 
other, and the front end of the car shot into the 
air. There was a grinding and a tearing, 
mingled with a score of shrieks and groans from 
wounded and dying. Another shock followed, as 
the car behind also went up, and then, as Paul in 
his terror glanced upward, he saw the roof above 
settling slowly down upon himself and those 
around him. 


CHAPTER XII. 


FROM OUT OF THE WRECK. 

It was an appalling situation — doubly so be- 
cause it had come so unexpectedly. 

The train had met with some terrible accident 
— just what, was now impossible to tell; and the 
car behind had leaped up on that in which Paul 
and the other members of the band sat, and 
threatened to crush everyone into a jelly. 

The crash had produced a cloud of dust, smoke, 
and splintered wood, and in the awful confusion 
which reigned for a moment it was as if pande- 
monium had broken loose. 

“Help! help! Pm being crushed to death !’^ 
“ Take that seat from my chest ! ” 

“ Save my wife ! Where is my wife ? ” 
“Where is my little boy? Willie, Willie, 
where are you ? ” 

“ Look out for the roof ! It’s coming down ! ” 
The last cry was the loudest of all, taken up as it 
was by half a dozen throats at once. Slowly but 
surely the roof was settling. It had split in the 
middle and through the crack showed a portion 
of a truck belonging to the other car. 


90 



THE WRECKING OF THE TRAIN. P. 94 





• V. 







, . „ f "■ ■Vt ‘ ■ 

■' ;,"■ IIM 












V ".- 


* ’ll 

4 


•h 

3 j 


- 1 


* tt 


ti W 


’iiie 


« * 


' laf ■ t iT, s ^ 'V*^ ^'.i 

- ^ U 


w ■ 


' * » ?'■ . . *1 
* \.A '- ‘ A 

- ~ ‘ ' • e ' 





-i*-* f 

’<1 v '- 

il:-. 'V'-^*^’^’;';' 






v 


V 


il^‘ 


■{\- 






,.» l.*’»i’ \iC ^».^.. :TL<y ^11 iT -, .. 


- > 



•ij>;.;., -■ 

'i^ ' ■ £ 







FROM OUT OF THE WRECH. gt 

Professor Powell ! '' cried Paul, as soon as he 
could catch his breath. “ Get up ! We must get 
out, or we’ll be killed ! ” 

For Anderson Powell had been hurled into the 
aisle and lay prostrate, and several were already 
trampling on his body. Shoving two men back, 
Paul succeeded in raising the bandmaster in his 
arms. He was totally unconscious, and the 
blood was flowing from a wound on the forehead. 

“ This way with him, Paul ! ” It was Horatio 
Calliwax who spoke. He had been sitting behind 
the pair, reading a newspaper. He jerked his 
hand toward the smashed window and broke out 
what remained of the glass. “ It’s the best way 
out.” 

The boy saw that Calliwax was right; it was 
not only the best, but also the only way to escape. 
The rear of the car was a wreck, while the front 
was jammed with passengers fighting to get out. 

You go first and I’ll lift him out to you,” said 
Paul, and like a flash Horatio Calliwax disap- 
peared through the opening. The next instant he 
had Anderson Powell by the shoulders and was 
dragging him forth. 

It was a heartbreaking moment to Paul, for 
now the roof had sagged halfway down to the car 
seats. He gave the bandmaster’s legs a shove, 
and leaped through the window himself. A sec- 
ond more and he was rolling down an embank- 


92 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 

ment with half a dozen other people. Presently 
there came a crash, and the roof that had sagged 
gave way completely, and a fire started up from 
no one knew where. 

In five minutes the true situation became 
known, and willing hands went to work to care 
for the dead and those who had been injured. 

A freight train had been backing out from a 
side track, and the engineer of the passenger train 
had failed to see the signal to stop. The loco- 
motive had run into a freight-car loaded with 
lumber and scattered it in all directions. 

At the last moment both the fireman and the 
engineer had jumped for their lives, and rolling 
into a watery ditch had escaped serious injury. 
But several were dead in the third car, that occu- 
pied by the band, and many were injured in the 
car behind, which stood with the front end well 
up in the air and with the passengers spilling out 
of the rear door like beans out of a cornucopia. 

I wonder if our crowd are all safe?’’ said 
Horatio Cahiwax, as soon as he and Paul came 
together in the meadow lot beside the track. 

Paul did not reply at once, but knelt at Ander- 
son Powell’s side. The bandmaster’s breast be- 
gan to heave and presently he opened his eyes. 

“ Oh, Heavens ! ” he moaned. “ What has 
happened ? ” 

“ We’ve had a smash-up,” answered Paul. 


FROM OUT OF THE WRECK. 93 

‘‘You were knocked out. How do you feel? 
Not seriously hurt, I trust.” 

‘‘ I — I guess not.” The bandmaster drew a 
long breath and sat up. “ Never mind me — now. 
Go and see if the others are safe,” and he gazed 
at the scene before him in horror. “ I felt it in 
my bones,” he went on. “ Don’t you remember 
what I said about traveling in the fog? ” 

Calliwax and Paul ran up the embankment 
again, followed by several others. The fire that 
had started was now growing, and from the in- 
terior of the car came half a score of yells for 
help. 

“ We ought to do something for the poor 
wretches inside,” said Paul, his heart touched 
with pity. “ Come on ! ” 

“ You’ll be burnt up ! ” ejaculated Calliwax, 
trying to restrain him. But Paul broke away, 
and mounted to the front end of the smashed car, 
which had now become clear of frightened passen- 
gers. 

Once inside of the car, he could at first see but 
little, for the dust and smoke were as thick as ever. 
But now the fire spurted up and by its glare he 
beheld a man lying on his back and pinned down 
by two seats which were crushing in his chest. 

For the love of Heaven, help me ! ” groaned 
the sufferer, at sight of Paul. 

“ I will ! ” answered the boy. Rushing for- 


94 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


ward, he summoned all of his strength and 
wrenched the topmost seat away. Then he 
tackled the other seat, but it was jammed in be- 
tween another seat and the side of the car, and 
could not be budged. 

“ Be careful, you are hurting me ! ” came in a 
groan. “Get a pry, or something! You can’t 
do anything with your bare hands ! ” 

Paul ran back to the doorway. He remem- 
bered having seen some tools screwed fast to the 
wall, in a glass case. He smashed the glass with 
his elbow and brought forth a short crowbar and 
an ax. 

By this time others had followed his lead into 
the car, and several more sufferers were rescued. 
But the fire was growing hot, and whatever was 
to be done for the man under the car seat must 
be accomplished quickly. Crash ! crash ! went the 
ax, and the splintered wood flew in all directions. 
Then the crowbar was applied, the seat came up, 
and the man was free. 

He was too weak to stand, and Paul dragged 
him forth and slung him over his shoulder. The 
fire was on every side, and live embers fell upon 
the lad’s neck, burning him in half a dozen places 
and singeing his hair. But he was pure grit, and 
staggered to the platform with his burden and 
leaped into the meadow. 

Two people had been killed — a man and a 


FI^OM OUT OF THE WRECK. 95 

woman — and nine had been injured. Fortu- 
nately not one of the band or the theatrical per- 
formers had been seriously hurt, although all had 
been scratched, and many were in a state of ner- 
vous collapse, especially the ladies. 

The man Paul had rescued was a well-built and 
well-dressed individual of forty, who gave his 
name as Horace Browler and said he was a New 
York lawyer. 

I shall not forget your bravery and kindness,*^ 
he said to the youth after the excitement was over 
and the wounded had been cared for. ‘‘ If you 
had not come to. my assistance I would have been 
burnt up in yonder flames.” And he shuddered. 

‘‘ I only did my duty, same as lots of others 
here,” answered Paul modestly. It was a pretty 
bad smash-up.” 

Horace Browler was anxious to know more 
of the boy who had saved him, and when Paul 
went off to aid Anderson Powell he asked Calli- 
wax a number of questions and took down in his 
note-book Paul’s name and traveling tour so far 
as made out. 

He shall certainly hear from me again, and 
you can tell him so,” he said to the impersonator, 
and then limped off to see what prospect there was 
of getting to Hartford, where he was due to argue 
a case at two in the afternoon. 

It was not until an hour later that a train was 


96 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 

backed down from the capital to take on board 
those who had remained at the scene of the wreck. 
One of the cars was transformed into a hospital, 
and here the wounded were made as comfortable 
as possible. 

During the excitement Paul had forgotten all 
about the gold-plated cornet he had been carrying, 
done .up in a neat leather case. Now, as the train 
started off, he sprang up in dismay. 

“ By jinks ! ” he ejaculated, my cornet! ” 

‘‘ Bixby gathered in all the instruments,’’ said 
Anderson Powell. “ I spoke to him as soon as I 
could think of it.” 

Bixby was the general utility man attached to 
the organization. He was in the front end of the 
car, and Paul lost no time in interviewing him. 

‘‘ Have you my cornet, Bixby? ” he questioned. 

The case has ‘A. P.’ stamped on it; Anderson 
Powell lent it to me.” 

Here are all the instruments,” replied Bixby, 
pointing to the pile beside him. Do you see 
yours anywhere ? ” and he began to toss them 
over. 

Paul did not, and his heart sank when the search 
was concluded. 

“You are sure you have all that were picked up 
here? ” he asked. 

“ I let Harry Stone have one horn. Perhaps 
that is yours, Stone is in the car ahead.” 


FROM OUT OF THE WRECK. 


97 


I’ll soon find out/’ concluded Paul, and 
moved away to the car in question. Stone sat 
smoking a cigar, to quiet his nerves as he said : 

No, this is my cornet,” he said, exhibiting the 
instrument. ‘‘ I haven’t seen your instrument 
anywhere.” 

Thoroughly alarmed, Paul now began a sys- 
tematic search. But it was useless; the cornet 
and case were gone. 


CHAPTER XIIL 


A CHASE AFTER A THIEF. 

Paul regretted the loss of the musical instru- 
ment for two reasons. The first was that the loss 
must be made good to Anderson Powell, and the 
second was that, without his cornet, playing in the 
band would be out of the question. 

But the bandmaster soon came to his relief. 

Never mind, Paul; we are not supposed to 
think of everything in such a wreck as that,” he 
said. “ It was a good deal better to help me 
through the window than it was to save the horn. 
As for the value of the instrument and case, the 
railroad company is responsible for that.” 

“ But I can’t play without a cornet.” 

“ True enough. But I fancy there are several 
instrument establishments in Hartford where an- 
other cornet can be procured, although it may not 
be gold-plated.” 

“ That cornet just suited me,” sighed Paul. 
“ If only I had the mouthpiece! ” Horn-players 
become very much attached to certain mouth- 
pieces which just fit their lips. 

98 


A CHASE AFTER A THIEF. 


99 


“ No use of crying over spilt milk,” concluded 
Anderson Powell, and there the subject dropped. 

When the train reached Hartford there was a 
great crowd at the depot, for the news of the acci- 
dent had spread. The wounded were hurried off 
to various hospitals and the dead to the morgue, 
and several officers of the railroad company 
rushed around to learn from each passenger his 
name and address, and if he had suffered any loss. 
To one of these officials was mentioned the miss- 
ing cornet and several other things, and the man 
said that everything would be attended to and 
settled for at the earliest possible date. 

It was a rather nervous and unsettled company 
which gathered in the theater that afternoon for 
rehearsal. Miss Donati was entirely off the bill, 
and her place had to be filled by another singer. 
From a local musician Paul succeeded in hiring a 
B-flat cornet for the three days the organization 
would remain in Hartford. 

The public like excitement and something new, 
and the fact that the members of the company had 
been in the smash-up brought a large audience to 
the theater, many coming out of curiosity. Quick 
to catch on to a new thing, one of the lady singers 
appeared on the stage with a good-sized bit of 
court-plaster on her forehead, where she had re- 
ceived a slight scratch. Her singing was only 
fair^ but the plaster did the business. She was 


lOO 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


hailed as a semi-martyr, and the applause she re- 
ceived was terrific. Such is the pulse of the 
public. 

The band, too, presented the appearance of 
veterans from the war and were treated ac- 
cordingly, every air going wth a rush and 
a hurrah which was as inspiring as it was 
gratifying. 

Things are all coming our way, in spite of 
smash-ups,^’ observed Horatio Calliwax, as he and 
Paul were wending their way to the hotel at which 
the band was stopping. “ But then it’s not 
strange, for true talent is bound to be recognized 
sooner or later,” he added, with an old-time toss 
of his head. 

Don’t grow conceited, Calliwax,” laughed the 
boy. “ Our luck may turn before we know it. I 
am anxious to know how we are going to make 
out in New York and Philadelphia. A New 
York audience is the most critical in the world, 
so I’ve been told.” 

We’ll carry ’em by storm, astonish, and as- 
tound them,” finished Horatio, who was in a ‘‘ fly- 
away ” mood. From a mental point of view 
prosperity was apt to be his worst enemy, for then 
his air-castles and his self-praise became almost 
too great for endurance. 

On the following morning Paul addressed a 
letter to Barrett Radley, General Delivery, Cape 


A CHASE AFTER A THIEF. 


loi 


Town, Africa, in which he mentioned who he was 
and that his father was dead, and asked for full 
information about the Stoneville Quarry Com- 
pany and its stock and stockholders. He also 
mentioned Hiram Dunkirk and Joel Burgess, and 
requested Radley to give him what information 
he could concerning those, individuals. 

I am trying to get what is coming to me out 
of Hiram Dunkirk,’' he concluded, “ and if you 
can help me in any way you can rest assured that 
I will pay you well for your trouble.” 

The letter duly sealed and addressed, the youth 
went below to buy a stamp and post it. He 
placed the epistle in his outer pocket, never for a 
moment dreaming of what was really to become 
of it and what an important part it was to play in 
the immediate future. 

Paul had noted that the post office was not far 
away from the hotel, and, in the fashion of many 
people older than himself, thought it would be as 
well to drop the letter right at the office instead of 
in a letter box. 

On his way he had to pass a musical instrument 
establishment, and curiosity prompted him to gaze 
at the instruments in the window. There was a 
fine-looking cornet there, and he passed inside to 
learn the price. 

A stout German was behind the counter, wait- 
ing on rather a tough-looking individual who had 


102 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


brought in an instrument wrapped in a sheet of 
newspaper. 

“Do yer ever buy cornets at second-hand?” 
asked the caller, and at the words Paul pricked up 
his ears. He came closer, and a single glance 
sufficed to show that the instrument offered was 
the one Anderson Powell had loaned him ! 

“ Why, that’s my horn ! ” he cried, and put out 
his hand to seize the instrument. But the tough 
drew back quickly in amazement. Then, noting 
that Paul wore a cap inscribed “ Golden Cornet 
Band,” he tucked the cornet under his arm and 
made a dash for the door. 

“ Stop him ! he’s a thief ! ” yelled Paul, and 
made after the fellow. Out on the street went 
both, and the tough started for the neighborhood 
of the river. 

The street was fairly crowded, and it was with 
difficulty that Paul kept the fellow in sight. But 
the youth’s blood was up and he was determined 
to regain Anderson Powell’s instrument at any 
hazard. 

“ Stop him ! Stop him ! ” he cried; but strange 
to say, but few heard his call, and no one did as 
he desired. 

At last the tough reached a large dock sur- 
rounded by a high fence. The gate was open and 
he darted through. Looking back he saw that 
Paul was still on his track and slammed the gate 


A CHASE AFTER A THIEF. I03 

shut and fastened it by dropping a heavy bar into 
place. 

“ Dat’s der time yer got left/’ piped up a small 
boy who had witnessed the move and saw Paul’s 
chagrin as he came to a halt on the outside. 

“ Give me a leg up, quick ! ” cried Paul. 
‘‘ That man is a thief.” 

“ A t’ief?” 

“ Yes. Help me, won’t you? ” 

'' O’ course, if dat’s de case. Up yer go, boss.” 

The small boy, who was strong for his size, 
caught Paul by the waist, and then placed one 
hand under the youth’s right foot. Up the boards 
scrambled the young cornetist, to reach the top a 
few seconds later and drop on the opposite side. 

But climbing the fence had taken time, and now 
the thief was nowhere in sight. Yet Paul felt he 
must be close by, and he commenced a thorough 
search of the dock, which was piled high with 
merchandise and lumber. 

Presently he reached a small tool-house close to 
the water’s edge. There was a window at one 
side, and as he passed this he saw the head of the 
thief suddenly bob out of sight behind a number 
of ship’s tools. He ran around to the door and 
burst it open. 

“ Hi! wot do yer want here? ” demanded the 
tough, putting on a bold front, now that he was 
cornered. 


104 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

You know well enough what I want,” re- 
turned Paul. “ Where is that cornet ? ” 

“ Don’t know nuthin’ about a cornet.” 

“ You do. Hand it over, or I’ll have you 
locked up in double-quick order.” 

“Will yer let me off if I do hand it over?” 
questioned the tough earnestly. 

“ That remains to be seen. Give me the cor- 
net first.” 

“ I didn’t say I had it.” 

As the rascal spoke he edged close to Paul. 
Suddenly he aimed a wicked blow at the boy’s 
head. Had not the youth dodged he must have 
been knocked senseless. The force of the blow 
nearly carried the tough off his feet, and ere he 
could recover Paul hit out in return and landed on 
the rascal’s neck. 

“ Ouow ! ” grunted the tough as he staggered 
up against a corner. Then Paul gave him an- 
other, and the tough went down on his back. 

“ I’ll git square wid you ! see if I don’t ! ” he 
hissed. “ I’ll git square as sure as me name is 
Mike Hooney.” 

While the tough was flat on his back Paul’s 
eyes swept the interior of the tool-house, and he 
caught sight of the cornet case stuffed behind a 
coil of rope. He drew it forth and opened it. 
The cornet was inside, and the instrument had the 
appearance of being in perfect condition. 


A CHASE AFTER A THIEF. 105 

‘‘ You Stay where you are/’ said Paul to the 
tough, who still lay somewhat knocked out.” 
“ Don’t you dare to follow me ! ” and thus speak- 
ing he withdrew from the tool-house and started 
along the dock to the street. 

Mike Hooney muttered something under his 
breath. The blow Paul had delivered had been 
an extra heavy one, and for the time being the 
tough was chary about making a move. By the 
time he did get up Paul was out of sight. 

The youth hardly knew what to do. To have 
the would-be thief arrested would only cause 
trouble, and he might be detained in Hartford as 
a witness against the rascal. He thought the 
matter over and concluded to let it drop. 

I gave him one to remember me by,” he 
thought. “ I reckon he won’t bother me again.” 

But for once Paul was mistaken. Mike 
Hooney was destined to bother him a good deal, 
and in a manner least expected. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


HIRAM DUNKIRK HAS A STRANGE VISITOR. 

During the scuffle in the tool-house Paul had 
dropped the letter written to Barrett Radley. 
Mike Hooney had noticed it, but did not mention 
the fact. Assured that Paul had gone, the tough 
picked up the epistle and sneaked away. 

“ Barrett Radley, General Delivery, Cape 
Town, Africa,’' he read, half aloud, for, like a 
good many others of limited education, Hooney 
could not read without making his lips move. 
“ Great smoke ! where is dat place, I wonder ? 
I’ve heard of Africky, but I never heard of no 
Cape Town. I’ll see wot’s inside,” and he tore 
the letter open. 

Sitting in an out-of-the-way corner of a favor- 
ite saloon, it took Mike Hooney the best part of 
an hour to master the contents of Paul’s carefully 
written epistle. As he finished his eyes took on 
a cunning look, and he ran his hands thoughtfully 
through his bushy red hair. 

“ Here’s a graft o’ some kind,” he muttered. 
‘‘ Dat boy is tryin’ ter learn somet’in’ about some 


HIRAM DUNKIRK'S STRANGE VISITOR. 107 

property dis Hiram Dunkirk is boldin' fer him. 
He says he’s afraid dis Dunkirk is tryin’ ter 
squeeze him, an’ he wants information from dis 
Barrett Radley. It’s a deep game all around, ter 
my way o’ thinkin’. I wonder if I can’t make 
sumt’in’ out of it? ” 

Mike Hooney was a great hand for making 
‘‘ sumt’in’ ” out of everything that came his way. 
Strictly speaking, he had never done an honest 
stroke of work in his life. At times he had been 
a sneak thief, pickpocket, and beggar, and al- 
though he had managed thus far to escape the 
vigilance of the police, he was wanted for a dozen 
crimes of more or less importance. His career 
had originally started in Boston, but, that place 
getting too hot for him, he had drifted first to 
New York and then to Hartford, and became a 
member of the gang of toughs who congregate 
along the river. 

Mike Hooney had been thinking of revisiting 
Boston on the proceeds to be received from the 
sale of the stolen cornet, but now money from this 
source having failed him he looked around for 
some other manner in which to raise funds. 

The chance came that very evening. Curious 
and daring, he visited the theater in which the 
Golden Cornet Band and Thompson’s Enter- 
tainers were having such success. He entered the 
gallery, and was careful to seat himself beside a 


io 8 the young bandmaster, 

rather well-dressed young man who sported a 
gold watch and chain. 

The entertainment was nearly over, and the 
band was performing one of its best selections, 
when Mike Hooney began one of his peculiar 
operations. While the well-dressed young man 
was thoroughly interested, Mike drew forth a 
handkerchief with a flourish and blew his nose 
vigorously. As one hand held the handkerchief 
the other slid over to the young man’s vest, and in 
two seconds the gold timepiece and chain were in 
the tough’s possession, wrapped in the handker- 
chief. A moment later Hooney arose and quitted 
the gallery. Before the show was over and the 
young man had discovered his loss the gold watch 
and chain were pawned for sixteen dollars, and 
Mike was on his way to Boston. 

One day was spent among his old companions, 
and then, dropping a hint that he had a big deal 
on among “ de hayseeds,” Mike Hooney brushed 
himself up, got a barber to cut his hair and 
shave him, and took a train for Stoneville 
Junction. 

“ It won’t do no harm ter look into de t’ing,” 
he argued to himself. “ I’ll make dat Hiram 
Dunkirk pay me fer de letter, if nuthin’ else.” 

Paul’s guardian — if such we must still call the 
miserly man — was seated at his desk in the sitting 
room when his wife announced a visitor. Dun- 


HIRAM DUNKIRK'S STRANGE VISITOR. 109 


kirk had got back his four hundred and fifty dol- 
lars, and although he felt pretty certain Paul had 
not taken the money he still told outsiders that 
the boy must be guilty, and nobody else. 

“ He is a thorough rascal and will end on the 
gallows,'' was what he would add. 

‘‘Who is it, Margy?" he asked, looking up 
from a mass of figures, for he had been calculat- 
ing how much he would make out of the Stone- 
ville Quarry Company's stock if Paul did not re- 
turn to claim his inheritance. 

“ Gives his name as Michael Hooney, Hiram. 
I never set eyes on him before." 

“ Must be that fellow as wanted to sell me a 
new quarry machine," grumbled Hiram Dunkirk. 
“ Show him in, and Pll soon send him about his 
business." 

“ How are yer, sir ? " exclaimed Mike Hooney 
as he stepped in briskly and extended his hand. 
Hiram shook it flabbily. 

“ Reckon you're that agent fer quarry ma- 
chines ? " he said sourly. 

“Quarry machines? Wot's dat?" exclaimed 
Hooney. Then he checked himself. “ No, I 
aint in dat kind of business. Pm a — a — specula- 
tor. I come all de way from Hartford ter see yer 
on a bit of private business. See ? " and Mike 
Hooney closed one eye suggestively. 

Hiram Dunkirk did not see. Nevertheless his 


no 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


face changed color, something that Hooney was 
quick to notice. 

“ Private business? ’’ he faltered. 

“ Dat’s it. I wish ter see yer alone about it.’’ 

This was said for the benefit of Mrs. Dunkirk, 
who stood in the doorway eyeing Hooney curi- 
ously. Taking the hint, the lady of the house 
went off, slamming the door after her. 

“ What business is it you have with me? ” de- 
manded Hiram Dunkirk. 

Before answering Mike Hooney drew up a 
chair and cast himself into it, dropping his hat on 
the floor at the same time. 

‘Hf I aint mistaken, Mr. Dunkirk, you have a 
boy, Paul Graham, dat you are guardian of,” he 
began. 

“ Oh, you come about Paul. Did he send 
you?” 

'' Not much he didn’t. I came on my own ac- 
count, sir — came to do you a good turn, if you’ll 
let me,” and Hooney’s voice sank into a confi- 
dential whisper. He saw just what manner of a 
man he had to deal with, and was determined to 
act accordingly. 

“ I — I don’t understand, Mr. Hooney.” 

‘‘ Dere aint no mister about me. I’m plain 
Mike Hooney, and if yer want me to help yer, 
why, say so. See ? De udder day I got wind of 
how dis Paul is goin’ ter try ter hurt yer — ^kick up 


HIRAM DUNKIRK'S STRANGE VISITOR, m 

a big fuss about dat estate yer a-holdin’ fer him. 
I t’inks it over, an’ I says to meself, ' I’ll go up 
an’ see dat Hiram Dunkirk, an’ see if he wants 
me to put him onto wot’s going on.’ So here I 
am, at yer service, if you want me.” 

“ Paul is going to make trouble ? How can 
he? Everything is straight, and ” 

Dunkirk broke off short. 

“ Dere was a man named Barrett Radley wot 
knows sumt’in’ ” 

And now Mike Hooney paused. 

“ Ha ! ” Hiram Dunkirk leaped to his feet. 
'‘What do you know of Barrett Radley?” he 
gasped. 

" I aint tellin’ wot I know unless I’m paid fer 
it. See? I always talk plain when I make a 
deal; den dere aint no misunderstandin’s.” 

Hiram Dunkirk winced. Parting with money 
was to him as bad as having teeth pulled. But he 
was curious to know what his visitor might have 
to say. 

“ If your — ahem ! — information is worth any- 
thing I’ll pay you for your trouble in coming 
here,” he replied. 

" Fork over a hundred dollars, an’ I’ll tell yer 
all I know, sir.” 

" A hundred dollars ! ” howled Hiram Dunkirk. 
" Man, you must be crazy ! ” 

" Wot I have ter tell may keep yer out of jug,” 


II2 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


said Ilooney, starting to draw on his imagination, 
now that he saw how matters were drifting. 

This remark scared Hiram Dunkirk still more, 
and he ended by bringing out all the cash the desk 
contained — eighty dollars — and placing it within 
his visitor’s reach. 

Feeling he was now safe, and that Dunkirk was 
just the sort of man he had expected to meet, Mike 
Hooney brought out the lost letter and passed it 
over for perusal. It is needless to state with what 
deep interest Hiram Dunkirk perused the epistle. 
As he read the cold perspiration stood out on his 
forehead. 

It aint pleasant readin’, is it? ” said Hooney, 
at the same time reaching out and securing the 
eighty dollars. Hiram Dunkirk was too much 
agitated to stop him. , 

How did you get this letter ? ” he questioned. 

‘‘ Dat’s tellin’.” 

“ Did you steal it ? ” 

Maybe I did — fer your benefit.” 

Do you know anything about what the boy is 
doing now ? ” 

“ I know everyt’ing about wot he’s doin’.” 

''Perhaps he sent you here?” queried Hiram 
Dunkirk with sudden suspicion. 

" No. I’ll tell yer how it was. We had a quar- 
rel, an’ in de fight he dropped de letter. I took it 
an’ said nothin’. Say, don’t yer want ter git 


HIRAM DUNKIRK'S STRANGE VISITOR, II3 

square wid him for writin’ dat? If yer say de 
word, I’m yer man ter — well, do anyt’ing yer say. 
See?- Anyt’ing, an’ dat covers de hull ground.” 

Tell me what the boy is doing, and — ^perhaps 
we can come to terms.” 

He’s playin’ cornet in de Golden Cornet Band. 
Dey are performin’ in Hartford dis week, but 
next week dey take to de road. I reckon de boy 
is got a good position and is makin’ friends, so if 
yer want ter do anyt’ing yer got ter be quick 
about it.” 

‘‘ I would like to get rid of him for good,” mut- 
tered Hiram Dunkirk between his teeth. “ I 
don’t owe him anything,” he added hastily for 
Hooney’s benefit, but he may cause me a lot of 
trouble.” 

“ O’ course yer don’t owe him anyt’ing,” said 
Hooney reassuringly; ‘‘ but such fellers is best out 
o’ de way sometimes. I’ve got a plan to git rid 
o’ him which yer might try, but I aint workin’ fer 
nuthin’. See ? ” 

Hiram Dunkirk drew a long breath. The two 
rascals looked each other in the eyes ; then both sat 
down. 

Tell me of your plan,” said Dunkirk, and if 
it’s a good one I’ll pay you well to carry it out.” 

And then and there a plot was concocted 
against Paul which was to produce most surpris- 
ing results. 


CHAPTER XV. 


THE GRAND OPENING IN NEW YORK. 

It was not until he had returned to the hotel 
and acquainted Anderson Powell with the news 
that the missing cornet was recovered that Paul 
became aware that the letter to Barrett Radley 
was gone. 

He spent half an hour on the street in hunting 
for it and then returned to his room and penned, 
as near as he was able, a duplicate, which he duly 
posted on his way to the theater. 

The last night spent in Hartford was a big suc- 
cess, and when the organization took the mid- 
night train for New York all of the members 
were in the best of humor, even though tired out. 

“ We are doing very well,” said Anderson 
Powell to Paul. “ But the first week in New 
York will tell the tale as to whether we are to sink 
or swim this season.” 

“ I trust you are satisfied with my playing,” an- 
swered the boy. “ I am doing my best and prac- 
ticing from three to four hours every day.” 

‘‘ I am thoroughly satisfied, Paul. I only wish 


THE GRAND OPENING IN NEW YORK. 11 $ 

some of the other players would practice as much. 
Harry Stone is a good-enough fellow, but he 
won’t practice at all.” 

Paul knew that what Anderson Powell said 
was true. Stone was one of those players who 
thought there was no need to waste hour after 
hour in playing scales and difficult passages, and 
had told Paul so. In that he made a great mis- 
take, for every public performer must practice 
continually to keep in perfect musical condition. 

For the opening in New York several new se- 
lections had been given out, and the band was 
called together for rehearsal on Sunday as well as 
Monday afternoon. The opening was to take 
place at a leading opera house, and Thompson 
was doing all in his power to advertise it and 
create a “ boom.” 

My old hunting ground,” said Horatio Calli- 
wax, as he and Paul took a stroll down Broad- 
way. “ You can talk about other cities, but to 
me there is but one New York.” Calliwax spent 
several hours on the Rialto, as the neighborhood 
of Fourteenth Street is designated by theatrical 
folks, and introduced Paul to several actors and 
actresses of more or less note. 

Paul had never been in New York before, and 
he was anxious to pay visits to Central Park, the 
Brooklyn Bridge, and other points of interest. 
But it was a case of business before pleasure, and 


Ii6 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

he Stuck to the theater and his cornet and prac- 
ticed harder than ever. 

At the Monday afternoon rehearsal there was 
a row. Harry Stone had not rehearsed the new 
pieces, as Anderson Powell had directed, and the 
bandmaster censured the cornet player for his 
neglect. Stone grew angry, and the upshot of 
the matter was that he was discharged on the spot, 
and Paul was called on to fill the position of lead- 
ing B-flat cornet, one of the most important in a 
band of this sort. 

“ I must look to you to fill Stone’s place,” said 
Anderson Powell. “ Do your level best, Paul, 
and mind that triple-tonguing in that ‘ Day 
Dream ’ selection.” 

‘‘ I will, sir. Pve been practicing on that for 
the last half-hour.” 

“ Well, don’t practice after five o’clock. Your 
lips ought to have at least three hours’ rest before 
the concert begins.” 

Paul VOS a goot poy to blay,” put in the Ger- 
man bass player. “ He vill be a besser player as 
Stone efer dared to pe.” 

Horatio Calliwax was also far from idle. In his 
impersonations he intended to include the Mayor 
of New York and several other well-known local 
characters, and to do this successfully was no 
mean task. To those who sit as an audience only, 
little is known of the immense amount of details 


THE GRAND OPENING IN NEW YORK. 117 

actors and others have to go into to produce any- 
thing successfully. A single turn/’ as it is 
called, may last but five minutes, yet the actor 
may have work for six hours a day for months in 
preparing himself for that selfsame turn. 

At last the eventful hour for opening in the 
great metropolis arrived. It would be useless to 
deny that all hands, from Powell and Thompson 
down, were more or less nervous. To open in 
New York means the investment of thousands of 
dollars, and if a performance is a ‘‘ freeze out,” it 
means an immense sum of money lost, and no 
reputation with which to go on the road. On the 
other hand, a successful metropolitan opening 
means money in pocket and offers from every- 
where in the United States at good percentage 
figures. 

At seven o’clock the doors were opened, and in 
half an hour less than a hundred people had 
drifted in and these mostly in the gallery. The 
reserved seat sheet denoted less than another hun- 
dred still to come. Thompson shook his head. 

We have two farce comedies and a comic 
opera company to run against, besides the regu- 
lar plays,” he said. “ It looks as if we were 
knocked out.” 

Fortunes of war,” sighed Anderson Powell. 

How much paper is there out ? ” 

About a hundred,” answered Thompson, re- 


Ii8 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

ferring to tickets given away in exchange for ad- 
vertising privileges. 

That gives us an audience of three hundred, 
with possibly another hundred drifting in.” The 
bandmaster shook his head. Wumple will have 
to fill us up somehow.” 

Wumple was the local manager, and he was 
immediately appealed to. He understood as well 
as the rest that to play to a theater that was hardly 
quarter filled on the opening night would never 
do. 

I’ll send Jamison out with three hundred 
comps,” he said; and so it was arranged. Jami- 
son was a ticket man who understood his business, 
and in twenty minutes he had distributed the 
complimentary tickets just where they would do 
the most good, and given them out in such a way, 
too, that the receivers thought they were getting 
something of more than ordinary value. 

By eight o’clock, the time for opening, patrons 
came in a little more briskly, and when the curtain 
went up the audience numbered over a thousand, 
six hundred of whom had paid their .way in. 

The uniforms of the band members had been 
given every attention, and the band certainly ex- 
hibited a fine appearance as it sat in the glare of 
the footlights. Yet their appearance created no 
applause. They were to realize what it means to 
face a critical metropolitan audience. 


THE GRAND OPENING IN NEW YORK. II9 

The opening piece was a fantastic arrangement 
of one of the late Patrick Gilmore’s band compo- 
sitions. The band had played it a dozen times or 
more, and had it “ down fine,” as Paul expressed 
it. In one place there was a little solo for the 
cornet which Paul was expected to play. 

The composition opened very well, with a dash 
and a crash which instantly attracted attention. 
As it progressed, all of the players warmed up, 
and when the solo was reached the nervousness 
Paul had felt was gone He struck in boldly, yet 
with great ease and sweetness, and the crash of 
the band at the finish could not drown out the ap- 
plause that followed. It was the first applause 
received in New York, and it cannot be wondered 
at that Paul felt proud accordingly. When the 
piece ended the applause was renewed, and it was 
known that, so far as the Golden Cornet Band was 
concerned, the show had “ caught the town.” 

The solo singer. Miss Donati, came next, and 
was fairly well received, and then, after a “ slide- 
in” scene on the band, Horatio Calliwax ap- 
peared carrying a big valise, which he opened up 
on a folding three-legged stand. 

“ I’ll first give you an imitation of the original 
Cohen, of the Bowery,” he said, working among 
his make-ups. Mr. Cohen is down at Coney 
Island with Mrs. Cohen and the six Cohenettes, 
to their annual bath.” He turned away for a 


120 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

moment, then reappeared with bushy black hair 
and whiskers, and a face that was a perfect He- 
brew type. “ Ach, my, Rachel, shust look at dot 
vater! Aint it lofly? Ikey, you kin dake off 
your shoes und stockings und paddle around, put 
don’t let a shark cotched you py der doe. I don’t 
dink ve had besser dake a path — it costs a kvoter. 
Ve safe dot kvoter und look at der vater. Ah, 
VOS is los mid Ikey? He vill pe drowned! He 
vill pe drowned I Ikey, Ikey ! look out mid your- 
self, und if you go under ton’t lose dot nickel I gif 
you I ” 

This bit of pleasantry caused a big laugh, even 
from the Hebrews present, for they enjoy a joke 
on their countrymen quite as much as anybody. 
Imitations of an Irishman, a Dutchman, and a 
Turk followed, and then Calliwax branches off 
into well-known characters, from the President 
down to the Mayor, and then to a well-known 
East Side politician. The latter impersonation 
had been carefully studied, and as Calliwax 
strutted around talking about de boys an’ dat 
new deal wid Tammany,” the laughter was up- 
roarious. 

“ Calliwax is all right,” murmured Thompson 
to Powell. “ He’s got big air-castles in his head, 
but he knows his turn, just the same.” 

“ You want to get him under contract,” replied 
Anderson Powell. “If you don’t, some agent of 


THE CRAHD OPEMIHG IN NEW YORK. 12 1 

a continuous-performance house will gobble him 
up before you are aware.” 

ril get him under contract to-morrow,” an- 
swered Thompson, and he was as good as his 
word, which showed his level-headedness, for 
forty-eight hours later Horatio Calliwax had 
offers from the managers of two rival continuous- 
performance houses well known to all New York 
theater-goers. 

For the opening in the metropolis Thompson 
had added several special acts, and these also went 
very well, although adding nothing to the value 
of the original programme. 

One act was that of a tight-rope dancer, who 
performed while blindfolded, something entirely 
new in that line. Madame Peripot was the 
dancer’s name, and even Paul watched her with 
interest when she came out. 

The rope upon which she performed was 
stretched from one wing to that opposite, each end 
being fastened to a ring and staple driven into an 
upright of the wall. 

As the performance went on, Paul, during a 
second of silence, heard a strange noise behind 
him. Looking back he discovered that one of the 
uprights to which the rope was fastened was 
breaking away from the wall. It was likely to 
come down at any instant, bringing a lot of ropes 
and scenery with it. 


CHAPTER XVL 

PAUL MEETS A FORMER ENEMY. 

Paul felt that something must be done, and 
done quickly. If the upright came down, it was 
likely one or more people would be hurt, and per- 
haps Madame Peripot would be fatally injured. 

His first impulse was to yell to the tight-rope 
dancer, warning her of her peril. But just then 
the music struck up loudly, and no call would 
have been heard. Besides, he remembered that 
the lady was blindfolded, and to leap to the stage 
while in that condition was decidedly perilous. 

Close beside Paul stood Bunglemann, the bass 
player, who was completely absorbed in the danc- 
ing upon the slender rope. Paul caught him by 
the arm and dragged him away from the wing. 

The timber is coming down ! ’’ he cried. 

Help me hold it up!’^ 

“ Mine gracious ! ” gasped Bunglemann. Of 
dot comes down somepoddy vill pe killed, 
alretty 

He rushed up and put all of his weight against 
the beam. This steadied it for the time being. 


122 


PAUL MEETS A FORMER ENEMY. 123 

and in the meantime Paul espied a bit of board 
lying close at hand. He raised it up to the top 
of the upright, and at the same time stopped a call- 
boy who was passing. 

‘‘ Call some of the men,” he said. And bring 
the stage carpenter here, quick ! ” 

His order was obeyed. Calliwax and Ander- 
son Powell helped to hold the upright, and the 
breaking away from the wall ceased. In less than 
a quarter of a minute the stage carpenter appeared 
and climbed into the flies. He carried half a 
dozen small spikes and a heavy hammer with him, 
and, the music being warned to play loudly, he 
kept time with his hammer and drove the spikes 
home one after another; and the danger was over. 

When Madame Peripot heard of what had been 
done she was profuse in her thanks to Paul. 

“ I shall not forget you for zat,” she smiled, as 
she took his hand. You vos von brave garqon 
— verra brave indeed. One time I perform in 
Paris, and ze rope break and I sprain my ankle. 
I no perform for a month afterward and lose 
seventeen thousand francs salary. I no forget 
you.” And she did not, for before the engage- 
ment in New York closed she presented Paul with 
an elegant diamond scarfpin. 

On Tuesday morning all of the daily papers but 
one gave the entertainment splendid notices. The 
paper which was the exception said the show was 


124 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


fair, but by no means up to what the metropolis 
had a right to expect. 

'' That notice was written by Zimmer,” 
grumbled Wumple. ‘‘ He is mad because I won’t 
give all of his friends passes. Wait till I see him 
next time, and Fll put a flea into his ear. I hap- 
pen to know the managing editor of that paper, 
and Zimmer has got to treat us right.” 

Wumple was as good as his word. He went 
to see not only Zimmer, but also his friend, the 
managing editor, and the next day the sheet came 
out stating that “ the performance is vastly im- 
proved, and now makes one of the most delightful 
entertainments New Yorkers have had the privi- 
lege of attending for a long while.” 

The favorable criticisms of the papers, and of 
those who had been given free tickets, filled the 
Opera House the next night, and everything 
moved along without a hitch. 

'' We are on the high road to success,” said 
Anderson Powell gleefully, and it certainly looked 
as if he was right. 

Since discharging Harry Stone, the bandmaster 
had been looking for a cornet player to fill his 
place. On Wednesday afternoon a rather shabby- 
looking individual, with a cornet in a blue cloth 
bag, came in to see him. 

‘‘ I am from Boston, and I am looking for 
an engagement,” he said. “ I guess I am as 


PAUL MEETS A FORMER ENEMY. 1 25 

good a B-flat cornet player as you can find any- 
where/’ 

“ One of my E-fiat cornetists thinks of falling 
back on his B-flat/’ replied Anderson Powell, who 
was not favorably impressed with the appearance 
of the newcomer. “ So I thought of trying a 
new E-flat player.” 

“ Better give me an opening, sir. Just let me 
show you what I can do.” 

Perfectly willing to discover a “ diamond in the 
rough,” if the player should chance to be one, An- 
derson Powell let the applicant bring forth his 
cornet and prepare to play. With a flourish 
the fellow went through a popular air at break- 
neck speed. 

“ How’s that ? ” he cried, finishing up with a 
flourish. “ I don’t think any of your men can do 
better than that.” 

“ I don’t think they can play faster,” replied 
the bandmaster, who was not at all suited by such 
playing. 

“ Don’t you think I’ll do? ” 

“ Hardly. I think I had better look around for 
the E-flat player.” 

The face of the applicant fell, and he muttered 
something under his breath. 

“ Maybe you don’t know a good player when 
you hear him,” he snarled. 

‘‘ Perhaps not; but I certainly know a poor 


126 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


player when I hear him,” answered Anderson 
Powell sharply. 

“Do you mean to call me a poor player ? ” de- 
manded the performer savagely. 

“We had better not argue the question. I 
don’t want to engage you, and that settles it.” 

At that moment Paul and Horatio Calliwax 
came into the room. 

When Paul caught sight of the newcomer he 
uttered a gasp of surprise. 

“ Sandy Bowen ! ” he ejaculated. 

“ Why — er ” stammered Bowen, who had 

already been taken completely by surprise, never 
dreaming but that Paul was still performing with 
Carson at the theater in Boston. 

“ You’re the rascal who struck me down in 
Boston! ” said Paul. “ You ought to be locked 
up for it.” 

“ He shall be locked up,” put in Calliwax. 
“ Why, it was only by a miracle that Paul escaped 
death,” he added for Anderson Powell’s benefit. 

“If that is so the fellow ought certainly to 
suffer for his misdeeds,” returned the bandmaster. 
He turned to Sandy Bowen. “ What have you 
to say to all this ? ” 

“ I say it’s a falsehood — that’s what ! ” ex- 
claimed Bowen, as he edged toward the door. “ I 
reckon those chaps don’t want me to get a job 
here.” 


PA[/L MEETS A FORMER ENEMY. 1 27 

Reaching the doorway he attempted to step 
out, but Horatio Calliwax rushed forward and 
barred his progress. 

‘‘ Not so fast ! ” 

'' Let me pass ! ” howled Sandy Bowen, now 
thoroughly frightened. “If you don’t ” 

He ended by shaking his fist in Calliwax’s face. 
A moment later he found himself tripped up and 
flat on his back. 

“ That for knocking poor Paul out ! ” cried the 
impersonator sternly. “ Paul, let us give him a 
good thrashing and let him go.” 

White with rage, Sandy Bowen leaped to his 
feet. His cornet had been placed in the cloth bag. 
Now the bag was raised and the cornet came 
down on Calliwax’s head. The impersonator 
staggered back against the wall. 

“ You brute! ” gasped Paul, and made a dash 
for Bowen. But the rascal was too quick for 
him, and darted from the room, through a hall- 
way, and into the street. In a moment more he 
was swallowed up in the crowd. 

Paul attempted to follow him for half a block, 
and then gave up the chase. Returning to the 
theater, he found Horatio Calliwax nursing an 
ugly lump on his forehead. 

“ That fellow is a thorough villain,” growled 
the impersonator. “ Paul, you want to keep your 
eyes open for him,’' 


128 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


I certainly shall in the future. But I sin- 
cerely trust we may never meet again,” he added, 
with a shudder. 

His playing is very poor,” put in Anderson 
Powell. “ He is not competent to fill any posi- 
tion in a professional band.” 

Here the subject was, for the time being, 
dropped. Little did Paul dream that he now had 
two deadly enemies in New York, and that he 
was destined to hear from both in the future. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


HORACE BROWLER's ADVICE. 

The success of the Golden Cornet Band and 
Thompson’s Entertainers continued in New York, 
and when the second week was begun Wumple 
begged Thompson and Anderson Powell to re- 
main another two weeks. 

Both the general manager and the bandmaster 
were willing, but contracts to appear in Phila- 
delphia the next week, and in Washington the 
week following, had already been signed, and 
these could not be broken, so the second week in 
the metropolis was announced as a farewell, and 
the extra advertising served to pack the opera 
house from orchestra to gallery. 

The E-flat cornet player mentioned by Powell 
had taken up a B-flat instrument, but Paul con- 
tinued to be the leading B-flat player, for the solos 
he rendered in several selections could not be sur- 
passed by any member of the band. During the 
last few days in New York Thompson and Powell 
got their heads together and asked Paul to play a 
solo as a separate number on the programme. At 

139 


130 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 

first the youth hesitated, but finally consented, and 
on Thursday evening performed one of Sir Ar- 
thur Sullivan’s beautiful compositions with varia- 
tions. This took like wild-fire, and Paul was 
encored twice, and the daily papers the next day 
gave him splendid notices. Our hero was now on 
the highway to success, beyond a doubt, and for 
the time being Hiram Dunkirk and the hard life 
at Stoneville were entirely forgotten. 

In the next morning’s mail Paul received a note 
which was much of a surprise. It was from 
Horace Browler, the lawyer he had aided at the 
railroad smashup. The lawyer had returned to 
the metropolis, and asked the young cornetist to 
dine with him at five, at the Gilsey House. As 
there was no good reason for refusing, Paul ac- 
cepted, and at the appointed hour he presented 
himself, dressed in his best. 

“ I am very glad to meet you again, my young 
friend,” said Horace Browler cordially, as they 
shook hands. “ Come over to yonder table, 
which I have had reserved for us. I presume you 
thought it queer that you had not heard from me 
before. The fact is, I was wrapped up in a legal 
matter in Hartford, which had to be attended to.” 

“ I was not particularly looking to meet you 
again, sir,” said Paul, who, however, saw the drift 
of affairs. “ Although, to be sure, I am glad to 
know you/’ he added hastily. 


HORACE BROILER'S ADVICE. 13 1 

“ You don’t suppose I could forget you, after 
what you did for me, Paul? ” 

“ Not forget me, no; but — but Pll tell you right 
now, Mr. Browler, I am not looking for any re- 
ward for what I did.” 

You certainly deserve one.” 

“ Perhaps I do, but I don’t want anything. I 
only did my duty, and — and — well, this dinner is 
on you, you know,” and the boy smiled. 

'' You’re as modest as you are brave. How- 
ever, if you won’t accept a reward, I shan’t hurt 
your feelings by insisting. But remember one 
thing, I am your friend; and if you ever want any 
help, or legal advice, don’t hesitate to come to 
me. 

“ Pll take the legal advice — and right now,” an- 
swered Paul, and after the dinner was ordered 
and the first course served, he took Horace 
Browler into his confidence and told of his diffi- 
culties at Stoneville and with his unreasonable 
guardian, from beginning to end. 

Horace Browler listened with close attention. 
He was a good reader of human nature, and he 
saw that Paul was telling him the plain truth. 
When the youth had finished he rubbed his chin 
reflectively. 

It’s certainly a mixed-up affair,” he said 
slowly. “ Legally, this Hiram Dunkirk is your 
guardian, and if he is your father’s sol^ executor^ 


132 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


it will be a hard matter to make him come to a 
settlement before you are twenty-one, unless you 
can show proof of fraud in the administration of 
the estate. Have you ever read your father’s 
will?” 

Yes; but I was much younger then, and the 
legal phraseology bothered me.” 

“ Naturally. I’ll tell you what I will do. The 
will must be on record at the surrogate’s office in 
the county in which Stoneville is situated. I’ll 
have a legal friend up there look the matter up, 
and find out just what the will says. Perhaps 
your father’s properties may be mentioned in de- 
tail. Of course the fact that the quarry com- 
pany failed about the time your parent died 
complicates the case very much. But I’ll do my 
best for you, Paul, and as quickly as I can.” 

‘‘Do you think Mr. Dunkirk can hold me for 
the robbery of that four hundred and fifty dol- 
lars?” 

“ Perhaps he can, but I doubt if he’ll try it, un- 
less you crowd him into a corner — and we needn’t 
do any crowding until we are certain we have a 
good case against him, and can bring him to ac- 
count,” concluded Horace Browler. 

The two did not part until half-past six, and 
then it was on the best of terms. The lawyer 
lived in Harlem, and invited Paul to call upon him 
whenever he had the opportunity. He thought 


HORACE BROWLER'S ADVICE. I33 

it a good thing that Paul had written to Barrett 
Radley, and trusted the letter would reach the 
man without delay, and that a speedy answer 
would be forthcoming. 

The run to the Quaker City was made Sunday 
morning, and by noon Paul, Calliwax,and a num- 
ber of the others were settled down in a boarding 
house close to the theater in which they were 
about to perform. 

Anderson Powell had been called away to Bos- 
ton, for his brother, instead of getting better, had 
gradually become worse. The bandmaster had 
stated that he would be in Philadelphia by Mon- 
day evening sure, and during the meantime Frank 
Leland, the leading E-flat cornetist, was to take 
charge of rehearsals. 

Leland was a good fellow in the main, but he 
had two failings. The first was his occasional 
fondness for strong drink, and the second was his 
jealousy of Paul and every other player in the 
band. It galled him exceedingly to hear the 
youth play solos and be applauded for it. 

“ Why don’t you let me play solos ? ” he said to 
Anderson Powell more than once, but the band- 
master put him off by saying that E-flat cornet 
solos were not popular. As a matter of fact, 
Powell was too well satisfied with Paul to make 
any change. 

On Monday morning Leland called the band 


134 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

together and “ put it through with bells on,” as 
he himself stated it. He kept the players at work 
from ten o’clock to one, and then told them to 
come together again at three. 

He had been particularly hard upon Paul, mak- 
ing the youth play certain unimportant passages 
over and over again. More than once the lad had 
been on the point of demurring, but he kept silent 
just to avoid trouble. 

“ Mr. Powell will be back to-night,” he 
thought, and then I’ll tell him that I can’t prac- 
tice under Leland any more.” 

“ Dot mans vos a corker,” said Bunglemann, 
when the first rehearsal was over. “ Look owit, 
Paul, or he vill make you bractise so much you 
can’t VOS blay to-night.” 

Bunglemann had hit the nail on the head. In- 
sanely jealous of Paul, Leland had planned to ex- 
haust the youth and thus make his initial appear- 
ance in the Quaker City a failure. 

His lips will be sure to give out to-night and 
he’ll be roasted,” muttered Leland to himself ; and, 
feeling good, he went out and had several glasses 
of liquor. A little while later he met Horatio 
Calliwax and each treated. 

As the reader knows, one of Calliwax’s weak- 
nesses of the past had been liquor, and it was an 
evil moment for both him and Leland when 
they met in a saloon frequented by theatrical 


HORACE BROWLER'S ADVICE. 135 

folks. Calliwax had managed to keep straight 
since joining Thompson’s Entertainers, but now, 
urged to drink by Leland, the old craving for 
spirits returned. 

“ All right, Leland, old boy. I’m with you,” he 
cried. “ Have another on me.” 

“ Correct ; and you must have another on me,” 
hiccoughed Leland, who had already drunk more 
than was good for him. 

The treating went on for half an hour, when 
Calliwax suggested they try another saloon, “ just 
for luck.” 

Leland agreed, and arm and arm dhey swag- 
gered forth on the street. Leland could scarcely 
walk, but Calliwax bravely braced him up. 

It was in this condition that Paul discovered 
them when on the way to the theater for the 
second rehearsal. At first he could scarcely be- 
lieve the evidence of his eyes. Then he rushed 
up and caught Calliwax by the arm. 

“Calliwax, what does this mean?” he asked 
pleadingly. “Come along with me to the board- 
ing house.” 

“ You let Calliwax alone, Paul Graham,” mut- 
tered Leland, with a hiccough. “ Him and me’s 
all right — see? all right.” 

“ Come and take a glass with us, Paul,” mur- 
mured Calliwax, but his face burned as he spoke, 
for he realized what Paul thought of the situation. 


136 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ ril not drink — and you shan’t drink any 
more,” was the firm answer. “ Why, Calliwax, 
do you want to lose your position, and after the 
success you have had ? ” went on Paul, in a low 
tone. “ Come with me — do.” 

“ He’s a-going with — hie — me,” blubbered Le- 
land. “ Let go o’ him, Graham, or I’ll — I’ll 
knock your head off ! ” 

“ You shan’t touch Paul ! ” burst out Calliwax. 
“ He’s my friend, and I guess he’s right about 
drinking, Leland. Let’s give it up until another 
time.” 

“ I won’t; I’ll drink when I please and 
where I please,” blustered Leland, with drunken 
gravity. Come on ; don’t let that boy boss 
you.” 

“ Calliwax; will go with me,” said Paul, and 
forced the two men apart. Before Leland could 
do anything further, the lad had his friend half- 
way up the block. Leland shook his fist after 
them. 

What Paul did and said for the next couple of 
hours he never told a soul. But certain it is that 
when Calliwax appeared at the theater that night 
he was as sober as ever. His face was pale and 
his whole manner had changed. From that hour 
on Horatio Calliwax was almost, if not quite, a 
teetotaler. 

“ If it hadn’t been for Paul I would have got 


HORACE BROWLER'S ADVICE. I37 

drunk, and that would have been the end of posi- 
tion and reputation,” he thought. ‘‘ The noble 
boy is right — liquor is my enemy and is to be 
treated accordingly.” 

The other players wondered greatly at the ab- 
sence of both Leland and Paul during the after- 
noon, and the rehearsal which had been called did 
not come off. Paul came back at six o^clock and 
at once called Thompson aside. 

“ I want your advice,” he said. “ Mr. Powell 
has not returned from Boston. He left the band 

in charge of Frank Leland ” 

Well?” 

Leland has gone off on a blind, uproarious 
drunk.” 

“ Whew ! ” Thompson gave a low whistle. 
‘‘ You are sure of this? ” 

“ Yes. He is in a saloon three blocks from 
here, singing when he is not drinking and drink- 
ing when he is not singing.” 

The general manager’s face fell. 

“ That is a bad state of affairs truly, Paul. 
What do you advise? Can you go on without 
him?” 

“ I think we can.” 

‘‘ Who will take charge ? ” 

“ I will — if you will trust me. Mr. Powell told 
me just what he wanted done. You know, he is 
my old teacher, and we are very friendly. Leland 


138 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


was put in charge merely because he was the lead- 
ing player/’ 

“ Then you take charge and do your level best, 
for Philadelphians are good judges of music; I 
can tell you that.” 

Paul waited no longer, but immediately called 
the band around him and explained the situation. 
He had made warm friends of nearly all the mu- 
sicians, and they readily agreed to do their best 
under his leadership. 

“ You VOS all right,” said Bunglemann. ‘‘ You 
go ahead; you vos pound to be a pandmaster 
sooner or quicker, anyvay ! ” — and this caused a 
general laugh. 

Paul held only a short rehearsal, consisting of 
two compositions, of which, concerning the time 
of certain passages, he had been in doubt. The 
rehearsal cleared up the disputed points, and then 
he was ready for the evening’s opening. In the 
meantime a first-class musician from the Phila- 
delphia Musical Union had been hired to fill Le- 
land’s place. 

As Thompson had anticipated, the theater was 
crowded that night, the sign “ Standing Room 
Only ” being displayed some time before the rise 
of the curtain. Paul saw the people pouring in 
and his heart beat rapidly as he felt the responsi- 
bility which rested upon his shoulders. 

Just before the evening’s entertainment began 


HORACE BROWLER'S ADVICE. 


139 


Thompson made a brief address, explaining the 
fact of Anderson Powell’s absence and stating that 
his place would be in part supplied by the band’s 
most talented young cornetist, Master Paul Gra- 
ham. Those who had heard of Paul clapped their 
hands at this. 

Then the curtain went up, and stepping forth 
with his golden cornet, Paul led the band as An- 
derson Powell was wont to do, and then joined in 
when the most difficult passages were reached. 

The youth was just playing one of the hard 
solos in the high notes, when he happened to 
glance toward one of the wings and was horrified 
to see Leland appear. The drunken musician had 
secured his baton and with unsteady steps was 
advancing directly toward the footlights. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER^S QUICK MOVE. 

Paul was filled with dismay when he caught 
sight of Leland, intoxicated and evidently in a 
rage, on his way toward the footlights of the 
stage. 

Should the audience catch sight of the man in 
his present state it would create a terrible scene, 
and the likelihood was that the whole band would 
be hissed off. 

Paul was hardly in a condition to think about 
what was best to be done. The solo he was play- 
ing demanded all of his attention. He played on 
as rapidly as he dared without spoiling the com- 
position, and finished with a grand flourish. 
Then a sudden inspiration came to him, and back- 
ing toward the very wing Leland was approach- 
ing he bowed himself out of sight and directly 
into the individual, whom he sent sprawling on 
his back. 

“ Hi, you young scoundrel ! ” spluttered Le- 
land, but the sounds of his drunken voice were 
drowned by a crash from the band, the players 


140 


THE YO UNG BANDMA S TER' S Q UICK MO VE. 14 1 

taking up the next part of the overture without 
understanding why Paul had so suddenly deserted 
them. 

“Wot do you mean by — hie — knocking me 
down ? ” demanded Leland, as he made a clutch 
for Paul’s leg and thus assisted himself to his 
feet. 

“ Where are you going, Leland ? ” asked the 
boy, as coolly as he could, and gradually forcing 
the man backward. 

“ Going ? Going on the — hie — stage, of 
course. Aint I the — hie — leader to-night ? ” and 
Leland glared at Paul savagely. 

“ You are not going on to-night,” was the firm 
answer. 

“ Aint I ? Who’s going to — hie — stop me ? ” 

“ I am, for one. You are in no condition to 
show yourself. You had better hurry to the 
boarding house and go to bed.” 

“ Don’t talk to me, Graham. Let me pass. If 
you don’t — I’ll — hie — brain you ! ” and Leland 
raised his baton threateningly. 

How the scene might have ended there is no 
telling. But just then Thompson and several of 
the supers appeared and interfered. 

“ I told you to lock him up in an empty dress- 
ing room until he sobered up,” said Thompson to 
the supers severely. “ Don’t you let him up here 
again.” 


142 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


He was going on the stage,” explained Paul, 
and he related what had occurred. 

‘‘ Great Christopher ! That was a narrow es- 
cape truly!” murmured the manager. “Well, 
he shan’t bother you again, that’s certain.” 

Leland was led away in spite of his protesta- 
tions. The band was now finishing the selection, 
and at its conclusion the curtain was rung down, 
and matters were explained all around. 

“ Powell will discharge him for that,” said 
Akerson, an alto player. “ He said he wouldn’t 
have a drinker near him.” 

“ He VOSS besser pe discharged,” said Bungle- 
mann. “ I likes mine peer, too, put I ton’t vos 
trink so much like an ellerfunt, alretty I ” 

Calliwax, who was standing by, said nothing. 
But the grateful look he gave Paul spoke louder 
than words. 

It was just before the band went on again that 
a telegram was received from Anderson Powell, 
which read: “Brother just died. Leland will 
have to lead until to-morrow.” 

Thompson smiled grimly when he read it. 

“ He will be greatly surprised when he learns 
the truth,” he said. 

Paul was shocked to hear of Carl Powell’s 
death. Nevertheless, the youth did his best dur- 
ing the evening’s entertainment, and all passed 
off with credit. 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER’S QUICK MOVE. I43 

On the following morning Anderson Powell 
appeared, having traveled from Boston to Phila- 
delphia during the night. He found Paul read- 
ing a complimentary notice of the band, published 
in a leading Philadelphia newspaper. 

“ Where is Leland ? ” asked the bandmaster, 
and Paul saw that he was in deep trouble. 

In a few words Paul told him of all that had 
occurred. During the recital Thompson ap- 
peared, and he corroborated the youth’s story, 
and added that one of the theater attaches had 
had Leland arrested for assault and battery. 

“If that’s the case I will have nothing more to 
do with Leland,” said Anderson Powell. “ But 
this places me in a worse predicament than ever. 
I must return to Boston at once, and as my 
brother’s affairs are in a very mixed-up condition, 
there is no telling how soon I can get back to take 
charge.” 

“ Then let Paul continue to lead,” said Thomp- 
son quickly. “ He does very well, and I think to 
have a boy leader is a big advertisement.” 

Anderson Powell smiled faintly. “ Paul is all 
right,” he said. “ Why shouldn’t he be ? Didn’t 
I teach him myself ? ” and he smiled again. 

The matter was talked over for an hour, and 
at the end of that time it was arranged that Paul 
should take formal charge until such time as 
Powell should join the organization again. Le- 


144 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


land was dropped from the company, and the 
Philadelphia player, who did very well, was en- 
gaged in his stead, he being perfectly willing to go 
on the road. To fill the break made by Paul, 
another B-flat cornetist was engaged. He was 
a nephew of Bunglemann, a fat German lad, who 
could not speak a word of English, but who could 
play fully as well as the average member of the 
band. 

For the assault on the theater attache Leland 
was sentenced to thirty days in jail, so none of the 
band players saw him again during the remainder 
of the stay in Philadelphia. Leland vowed he 
would get square with Paul, but the boy and the 
man did not meet again for years. 

From Philadelphia the organization moved to 
Washington. As Paul had now entire charge, 
he went to work with a will, rehearsing several 
new airs and getting the old compositions down 
still finer than before. This kept him busy, and he 
had but little time in which to make the rounds of 
our beautiful capital. He did, however, manage 
to pay brief visits to the Smithsonian Institution, 
Patent Office, and to the Washington Monument. 

It was on the return from the latter place that 
an adventure happened which Paul never forgot. 

In some unaccountable way he was returning 
from the monument to the theater by a back street, 
when on chancing to pass a saloon he heard the 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTERS QUICK MOVE. I45 

brassy notes of a cornet blown by a person with 
more lung power than music. 

As was natural to a musician, he slowed up to 
ascertain what selection it was that the performer 
was playing. 

It was a popular song, but so badly done that 
even the patrons of the saloon found fault and be- 
gan to guy the performer. 

“ You can’t play, you clam ! ” 

'' Hire out to some fish peddler. That’s your 
class ! ” 

‘‘ Run him out of the place, Dilks. He’ll ruin 
yer reputation.” 

“ Come, clear out of here ! ” cried the bar- 
keeper, with a savage shake of his head. 

“ You promised me a half dollar to play six 
tunes,” said the musician. 

At the sound of his voice Paul started. 

Where had he heard that voice before ? 

All at once the truth burst upon him. 

The itinerant performer was Sandy Bowen! 

Great Caesar has he come to this — ^playing 
around saloons I ” murmured the youth. 

The saloon door now swung back and Bowen 
appeared. He was slightly flushed with liquor, 
and his left eye bore signs of a quarrel of the day 
previous. 

I want that half-dollar ! ” cried Sandy Bowen, 
in an ugly tone. 


146 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

“ You’ll not get a cent here, so take yourself 
off,” returned the barkeeper decidedly. 

So you are going to swindle me, are you ? ” 
howled Bowen. 

Swindle you ! ” The barkeeper, who was a 
passionate man, grew white. Give me my club, 
Jeff,” he exclaimed; ‘‘ I’ll teach him a lesson he 
won’t forget.” 

In a moment a negro appeared wth a long 
hickory stick. 

Bowen stumbled into the street, but the bar- 
keeper followed him up. 

“ Don’t ! don’t ! ” shrieked the cornet player, 
shrinking away. “ Don’t hit me ! I’ll go away.” 

I’m going to knock the daylights out of you,” 
was the barkeeper’s answer. Come on, boys, 
let’s have some sport.” 

At this cry half a dozen toughs poured out of 
the saloon, bent upon making a human football 
of Sandy Bowen. 

Paul looked at Bowen and saw that the man 
was hardly able to stand. 

As a matter of fact, Bowen had been quite 
sick. 

“ Don’t ! don’t ! Let me go ! ” cried Bowen, 
and tried to run, when the barkeeper tripped him 
headlong and struck him savagely in the back. 

This action made Paul’s blood boil. He for- 
got about how Sandy Bowen had assaulted him, 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER'S QUICK MOVE. 147 

and rushing in, he caught the stick from the bar- 
keeper’s hand. 

'' You contemptible brute, let this man alone! ” 
he ordered. 

Who are you?” ejaculated the barkeeper, 
while the toughs paused in astonishment. 

“ Never mind who I am. I want you to let 
this man alone.” 

Paul Graham 1 ” burst from Sandy Bowen’s 
lips. “ Help me ! Don’t let them hit me again ! ” 

And rising, he stepped behind Paul for protec-- 
tion. 

Let this man alone,” repeated Paul. ‘‘ If you 
don’t you’ll be sorry for it, that’s all.” 

In another moment the youth and Bowen were 
surrounded by an ugly-looking half-dozen men, 
all bent upon mischief. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


IN THE MIDST OF THE FLAMES. 

Paul felt that both he and the man whom he 
had sought to protect were in a ticklish situation. 

The youth had no love for Sandy Bowen, yet 
he was determined to assist the sick cornetist to a 
place of safety, if such a thing could be accom 
plished. 

As the barkeeper of the saloon and the Wash- 
ington roughs closed in Paul grasped the heavy 
stick tighter. 

The first one who lays a finger on this man or 
myself gets a crack on the head,” he cried sternly. 

At this the crowd hesitated. 

“ Give me my stick,” said the barkeeper sav- 
agely. 

“ I will if you promise to leave us alone.” 

He called me a swindler.” 

You promised him some money if he would 
play for you.” 

His playing is no good.” 

That’s no reason why you should abuse him. 
The least you can do is to let him go about his 
business.” 

*48 


IN THE MIDST OF THE FLAMES. 149 

Is he your friend ? ” 

Just now he is. You let us move on and you 
can have your stick. If you bother us I shall de- 
fend myself and then bring a charge against this 
saloon.’’ 

The barkeeper scowled. He saw Paul was 
well-dressed, and he did not know but that the lad 
might be the son of some influential politician, for 
Washington is full of political “ big guns.” He 
hesitated, and then shoved his friends back. 

“ Go on wid you, and don’t come near here 
again,” he murmured finally, and Paul and Bowen 
passed on, the boy throwing the stick behind him. 

“ Gosh ! but I’m glad I’m out of that,” mur- 
mured Sandy Bowen, after several blocks had 
been covered and they came out on Pennsylvania 
Avenue. 

'' You ought to be,” returned Paul simply. 
Then he looked at Bowen narrowly. Are you 
sick?” 

“ Yes, I’ve been kind of sick ever since I — I left 
New York.” 

See here, Bowen, why don’t you turn over a 
new leaf ? ” burst out the boy suddenly. “ What 
is the use of letting yourself go to the dogs like 
this?” 

“ I — I don’t know.” Sandy Bowen hung his 
head. “ You were kind to stand up for me after 
what I did to you.” 


150 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

'' I know that. But Fm willing to help you 
more, if you’ll promise to leave me alone in the 
future.” 

'' Oh, I won’t touch you again, you can be sure 
of that.” 

“ It was a mean way to treat me, but I don’t 
bear you any ill-will.” 

“ I know I did wrong, but,” Bowen hesitated, 
“ to tell the truth, I didn’t want to knock you out 
so hard in Boston. When you keeled over I was 
scared to death, and left the city with a fearful 
load on my mind.” 

“ How are you off for money? ” asked Paul, 
to shift the subject. 

“ I haven’t got a cent.” 

“ What will you do if I loan you five 
dollars ? ” 

“ Say, Graham, will you really loan me that 
amount? ” 

“ I will if you’ll promise to brace up and not 
to drink it away.” 

“ I won’t drink it away, and I’ll brace up and 
do my best to get a regular job. I’ve got a 
chance to join a band and orchestra in Baltimore, 
and was playing the saloons trying to raise the 
carfare and some money to buy food and medi- 
cine.” 

Paul put his hand in his vest pocket. “ Here 
are the five dollars,” he said, handing them over. 


m THE MIDST OF THE FLAMES. 15 1 

‘‘ Now do brace up, and when you are settled let 
me hear from you.” 

And so they parted, but not before Bowen had 
wrung the lad’s hand and inwardly blessed him 
for his goodness. It was the last Paul saw of his 
former enemy for many months. But he heard 
from Bowen, who obtained the situation in Balti- 
more and did as well as could be expected from 
one of his inferior musical ability. 

From Washington the combination went to 
Harrisburg and Pittsburg, and then struck out 
for Cleveland. Paul led the band at the two 
places first mentioned, but at Cleveland Anderson 
Powell came on for several days. 

His visit was of high importance to Paul. 
After listening to all the youth had done, he held 
a conference with Thompson. 

“ If you are satisfied with Paul, I’ll leave him 
in sole charge,” he said. 

'‘Satisfied!” cried Thompson. "Lam more 
than satisfied. He’s not only a splendid band- 
master, but his cornet solo is one of the most 
taking things on our programme. That lad is 
a wonder.” 

So Paul was called in, and an hour later he 
found himself at the head of the band for good, 
or so long as he should desire the position. 

" My brother’s estate was a large one,” ex- 
plained Anderson Powell. " And it will pay me 


152 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

to remain in Boston and see that everything goes 
straight.” 

‘‘ I wish I knew how my father’s estate stood,” 
sighed Paul. “ If Hiram Dunkirk is trying to 
beat me out of anything like a fortune, I want 
to know it.” 

“ What of that lawyer in New York who was 
going to look into the matter? ” 

I have one letter from him, saying that his 
friend, Clinton Fairfield, went up to Stoneville 
and vicinity and investigated, and found things 
terribly mixed. He thinks Hiram Dunkirk mixed 
’em up on purpose, and I guess he’s about right. 
He says we had best wait until we hear from Bar- 
rett Radley.” 

“ Well, any time he wants to see you notify me 
and I will come on and take charge during your 
absence,” concluded Anderson Powell. 

Winter was now coming on and the opening in 
Cleveland was attended by a heavy fall of snow, 
which kept a large number of patrons away from 
the theater for the first two nights. 

“ This thing can’t be helped,” said Thompson, 
as he came into the green room and stamped the 
snow from his shoes. “ I trust it clears to- 
morrow.” 

‘‘ And I trust the janitor makes this theater 
warmer,” put in Calliwax. “ It’s as cold as a 
barn.” 


IN THE MIDST OF THE FLAMES. I53 

‘‘ The house manager said they were going to 
fix the heater pipes to-morrow sure,” answered 
Paul. “ I asked him about it, for a fellow 
can't play well when his lips are blue with the 
cold.” 

Despite the cold, the band and other performers 
did their best, and as a consequence when it did 
clear off the day following the theater was packed. 

As Thompson had said, Paul now performed a 
solo regularly, in addition to leading the band, 
and never had he played better than now. The 
solo rendered was a variation of the popular 
ballad, “ The Old Oaken Bucket,” followed for an 
encore by “ Down on the Suwanee River.” The 
latter always brought down the house, for in it 
Paul did some marvelous triple-tonguing. 

If Paul was becoming famous so was Horatio 
Cal li wax. For the week at Cleveland Calliwax 
had introduced an impersonation of a well-known 
local baseball leader, and this took very well. He 
had now added a couple of songs to his “ turn,” 
and these were also favorably received. In his 
odd moments he had given much attention to his 
alto-horn playing, and under Paul made a promis- 
ing pupil. 

As I have said, the theater was packed on the 
third night. Outside it was bitterly cold and a 
strong wind was blowing. 

The first half of the programme had gone with 


154 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

much applause, and the curtain was just on the 
point of going up on Part 11. when Calliwax, as 
he ascended the narrow stairs from the green 
room, smelt smoke. He paused and looked 
around him. 

A moment later a faint crackling reached his 
ears, coming from the furnace room, situated di- 
rectly under the orchestra floor. Downstairs he 
went again, three steps at a time, and sped in the 
direction whence the smell of smoke came. 

As he entered a narrow passageway he and the 
janitor of the theater ran full tilt into each other, 
and both went down flat from the shock. 

‘‘ Save yourself ! The furnace room is on 
fire! ” yelled the janitor, who was the first to re- 
cover. “ Fir€ ! fire ! fire ! ” he cried out, as he 
leaped away toward the green room. 

The call was taken up on all sides. The cur- 
tain had just rolled up when Thompson heard it. 
As quick as a flash he stepped out in front of the 
footlights. 

“ Ladies and gentlemen,” he said coolly, I 
must beg you to retire from the theater at once, 
as there is a fire in the building behind this — a fire 
in ‘ the building behind this ! ” he repeated, and 
then disappeared. 

This happy inspiration saved the audience from 
becoming panic-stricken, in which case many must 
have been killed and wounded. As it was, all 


IN' THE MIDST OF THE FLAMES. i55 

got out as rapidly as possible, but no one was 
crushed or knocked down. 

The band was on the stage awaiting PauFs en- 
trance when Thompson made his speech. They 
now caught up their instruments and rushed off. 

Go out the back way ! ” cried Thompson. 
“ That was a fake story. The fire is in the 
cellar!’^ 

‘‘ Where vos Baul ? ” demanded Bunglemann, 
who thought a good deal of his young leader. 

“ Here I am,” cried Paul, coming from below, 
with a flushed face. I have just been turning 
on some of the automatic-sprinklers.” 

“ All of you get out ! ” went on Thompson. 
“ A theater is no place to be in during a fire.” 

“ Where is Calliwax? ” 

Calliwax is below, in the passageway,” put in 
the janitor. “ I thought he followed me up.” 

Calliwax ! Calliwax ! ” called out Paul. No 
answer came back. If he’s down there some- 
thing is wrong with him ! ” And away darted 
the young bandmaster through the thickening 
smoke in quest of his friend. 


CHAPTER XX. 


PAUL SAVES A FRIEND. 

“ Come back, Paul ! Come back ! 

It was Thompson who called out, and his cries 
were taken up by a dozen others. 

But Paul did not heed them. He was bent 
upon learning what had become of Horatio Calli- 
wax ere it was too late. 

The foolish poy ! ” sighed Bunglemann ; he 
vill pe purned up alretty ! ’’ 

The smoke was now so thick at the back of the 
stage that the majority of the performers waited 
no longer, but made a dash for the alleyway in the 
rear of the theater. 

Thompson alone hesitated. 

Where was Calliwax when you saw him 
last? ’’ he asked, clutching the janitor by the arm. 

“ Close to the door of the furnace-room,’' was 
the answer. “Let me go! We can’t save him. 
He ran into me and both of us went down.” 

“ And you would leave him to his fate ! ” ejacu- 
lated Thompson in disgust. But the janitor was 
already running for safety and did not hear him. 

“ Hang me if I don’t follow Paul I ” muttered 
the general manager, and off he went. 

156 


PA UL SA FES A FRIEND. 


157 


The smoke was now so thick that the lights in 
the passageway shone dimly, as through a heavy 
fog. To keep his breath Thompson bent low and 
slid, rather than stepped, down the narrow stairs. 
Then a bright glare ahead burst upon his sight, 
and between that glare and himself he saw Paul, 
with the insensible form of Calliwax slung over 
his shoulder. 

‘‘ Paul!^’ 

“ Thompson, is that you ? Help me ! I can’t 
carry him very well alone.” 

Paul staggered toward the stairs. In another 
moment he and Thompson were carrying Calli- 
wax between them. To get the dead weight up 
those narrow stairs was no easy task. 

“ The fire is creeping up ! ” gasped Paul, who 
was in the rear. “ Oh, look at that ! ” 

Wth a crash a wooden partition had gone 
down, and now the flames began to leap up under 
the very stairs they were treading. The boy 
staggered back and dodged for an instant under 
where an automatic fire sprinkler was playing. 
Catching his breath, he staggered on, with 
Thompson dragging Calliwax up in front. 

Half a minute — a time that seemed an age — 
and they stood on the stage floor. Calliwax was 
now recovering, and began to cough. But be- 
fore he was able to speak Paul and Thompson had 
him outside. As they emerged a number of fire- 


15^ the young bandmaster. 

men from the nearest fire-engine house rushed 
into the building, dragging two lines of hose with 
them. 

The alarm had caused a large crowd to gather, 
and presently the street was blockaded for sev- 
eral squares. It was reported that half a dozen 
had lost their lives in the fire, but this was of 
course untrue. As a matter of fact, not even an 
injury was received. 

The firemen understood their business well and 
went to work vigorously, so that the flames were 
confined almost wholly to the furnace and dress- 
ing-rooms. In an hour the flames were com- 
pletely under control, and before midnight the 
last spark was extinguished, and Thompson, the 
local manager, and several others were speculat- 
ing upon the chances of opening up again for the 
balance of the week. 

“ I suppose we can do it,’’ said Paul, “ but I 
don’t approve of it. People will be so nervous we 
won’t have half a house.” 

'' It will be a big advertisement, and we’ll have 
a big crowd,” insisted the local manager, and by 
employing a large number of carpenters he had 
everything in readiness to go on the very next 
evening. 

But Paul’s judgment had been correct. Folks 
in Cleveland were too scared to enter the theater 
just yet, and only two hundred admission tickets 


PAUL SAVES A FRIEND. 


159 


were sold at the box-office. Seeing this, Thomp- 
son canceled the engagement and laid all hands 
off until the opening in Chicago on the week fol- 
lowing. 

Calliwax was extremely grateful to Paul for 
what the youth had done for him. 

“ You saved my life, Paul,” he said fervently. 

You are one lad out of a thousand.” 

Calliwax had lost nearly all of his outfit, and 
Paul had lost one suit of street clothing, while 
his band suit had suffered a good deal from water, 
smoke, and dirt. But all were making money, 
so the damages were soon repaired, and matters 
went on as smoothly as before. 

The engagement in the great city by the lakes 
was to last for two weeks. The first week passed 
away swiftly. At each performance the theater 
was packed, and Thompson was correspondingly 
pleased. But on Saturday he came to Paul with 
a troubled look on his face. 

“ Here’s a state of things,” he declared. You 
know ' we bought off next week’s time from the 
Golden Spade Company.” 

Yes.” 

“ Well, the new manager of the company says 
the old manager had no right to cancel the time, 
and he is coming on from Indianapolis to claim 
it.” 

“ What does the local manager say ? ” 


i 6 o the young bandmaster. 

Says it is none of his business, as we fixed it 
up between ourselves. He would like us to stay, 
but the ‘ Golden Spade ’ is playing to big houses, 
too, so he’s not particular.” 

If we have to get out where are we going 
to ? ” asked Paul, after an awkward pause. 

I don’t know. We are booked for St. Louis 
week after next, and I don’t know of a single 
decent date open for next week. I’ve a good 
mind to hang on here.” 

“ Better consult a first-class lawyer first and see 
how we stand,” was Paul’s advice. 

■ This was followed, and after a consultation 
lasting several hours, and after the former man- 
ager of the Golden Spade Company had been tele- 
graphed to, the lawyer announced that Thomp- 
son’s organization undoubtedly had the best right 
to the theater for the week to come. 

“ Then I’ll keep it,” announced Thompson, and 
wired the new manager of the Golden Spade 
Company accordingly. In an hour a return me- 
sage came back. 

“ You’ll get out or we’ll pitch you out,” it read. 

^‘This is going to be interesting,” laughed Paul. 

“ Never mind, * forewarned is forearmed,’ you 
know,” returned the general manager. “ We’ll 
keep our eyes open for Ulmer Vascoss and his 
doings ” — for Vascoss was the advance agent of 
the Golden Spade Company. 


PAUL SAFES A FRIEND. i6i 

An hour later Bungleniann came in all out of 
breath. 

“ Mr. Thompson ! Mr. Graham ! ” he gasped. 
“ Vot you dinks? I vas me py der Alley Ele- 
vated Railroat chust now und a pill-poster vos 
coferin’ our pills mid sheets of der Golden Spade 
Gompany, alretty, so qvick ! ” 

“ What ! ” ejaculated Thompson. “ I wonder 
who gave him orders to do that ? ’’ 

“ Some of this Vascoss’ work, I’ll wager,” an- 
swered Paul. 

“ We’ll soon stop it,” growled Thompson. 

Away he rushed, Paul and Bunglemann with 
him. Inside of a quarter of an hour they had 
located the bill-poster and his assistant in the very 
act of covering a twenty-sheet board now exhibit- 
ing the best of Thompson’s lithographs. 

'' Hi, you, stop that ! ” cried Thompson, rush- 
ing up and catching the bill-poster’s arm. 

Who are you ? ” demanded the knight of the 
paste-bucket. 

I am Burd Thompson, the general manager 
of the Thompson’s Entertainers and Powell’s 
Golden Cornet Band organization. What right 
have you to cover our bills ? ” 

Orders from the office,” was the cool answer. 

“ Orders from the. office ? Why, I left orders 
to put up additional bills calling attention to our 
stay for another week,” 


i 62 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ I don’t know nothing about that.” And the 
bill-poster started to work again. 

“ Stop! I say.” Thompson’s voice was now 
firm. I guess I see through your game. Vas- 
coss bought you up. But it won’t work. You 
touch another one of my bills and I’ll call a police- 
man and have you arrested.” 

“ Yes, but see here ” 

” I won’t argue with you. Paul, I’m going 
down to the bill-posting company’s office and 
have matters straightened out. If this chap tries 
to go ahead with his work, have him arrested on 
the spot. Bunglemann, you stay here, too, will 
you ? ” 

You pet I vill ! ” replied the bass player. 

Dot feller besser look owit, oder I thrown him 
head first py his baste-bot, alretty ! ” 

Thompson rushed off without another word. 
The bill-poster looked undecided. As a matter 
of fact, Vascoss had bribed him heavily to cover 
the Thompson bills with all possible dispatch. 

You aint got no right to stop me,” he said, 
with an uneasy glance at Paul. 

'‘You heard what Mr. Thompson said,” was 
the youth’s cool answer. “If you go ahead I 
shall certainly carry out his instructions. The 
best thing you can do is to return to the office and 
find out how the matter is settled.” 

The bill-poster attempted to argue. Finally he 


PAUL SAFES A FRIEND. 163 

decided to follow Paul’s advice. He was just 
preparing to jump into his wagon with his assist- 
ant, when a stranger came upon the scene. 

“ Hi ! what are you stopping this posting for ? ” 
cried the newcomer. “ You said you would put 
it through before noon.” 

The newcomer was Ulmer Vascoss, the ad- 
vance agent of the Golden Spade Company. 


CHAPTER XXL 


ALMOST A PITCHED BATTLE. 

The bill-poster looked from Vascoss to Paul 
and then at Btmglemann. 

“ This young fellow represents the manager of 
the Thompson organization/’ he said in a low 
tone. 

“ I don’t care what he represents,” stormed 
Vascoss, taking in the situation at a glance. “ I 
want you to go ahead as I directed.” 

“ If he continues to cover our bills I’ll have 
him arrested,” said Paul, his eyes^ flashing. 
“ Who are you? ” 

I am Ulmer Vascoss, the advance agent of 
the Golden Spade Company. I’d like to know 
who you are? ” went on the agent, with a sneer. 

'' I am bandmaster of Powell’s Golden Cornet 
Band.” 

“ Oh, the fakirs that travel with Thompson, 
eh?” 

“ Ton’t you call us fakirs ! ” burst out Bungle- 
mann. Of you does I vill hit you von in der 
nose — hear dot? Ve vos chentlemans, alretty! ” 

“ Oh, shut up, Dutchy ! ” growled Ulmer Vas- 

164 


ALMOST A PITCHED BATTLE. 165 

coss. “ Go on with your work ” — this to the bill- 
sticker. 

Cover up one bill more and you go to the 
station-house/' said Paul warningly. “ Bungle- 
mann, you’d better look around for a policeman.” 

“ See here, boy, I want you to attend to your 
business,” howled Vascoss. 

“ I am attending to my business. Thomp- 
son left me here to defend our bills, and I’m going 
to do it.” 

Where is Thompson ? ” 

Gone to the bill-posting company’s office to 
adjust matters.” 

“ Vy ton’t you go dere? ” put in Bunglemann. 
“ You can’t do noddings here, I pet you dot! ” 

“Shut up, 3^ou Dutchman!” roared Vascoss; 
but the words had scarcel}^ left his lips when Bun- 
glemann caught the paste-brush from the bill- 
sticker’s hand and advanced on the irate man. 

“ Dake dot pack, or I vos cofer you mid paste 
from head bis feet ! ” answered the bass player 
threateningly. 

“ Heavens ! don’t touch me ! ” yelled Vascoss in 
alarm, and began to retreat. Bunglemann fol- 
lowed him, and a crowd began to collect, and then 
a policeman appeared. 

“ What’s the row here ? ” demanded the blue- 
coat. 

“ He VOS call me a Dutchman ! ” puffed Bun- 


i66 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


glemann. '' I ton’t vos allow anypotty to call me 
names ? 

“ Take him away! ’’ yelled Vascoss, who wore 
a brand-new winter overcoat, and was afraid of 
having it ruined. 

“ The trouble is just here, officer,” explained 
Paul. “ These show bills are ours, and we have 
paid to have them up another week. This man, 
the manager of a rival show, wants the bill-poster 
to cover the bills with some of his own. I was 
left on guard by our manager to prevent the bills 
being touched until the matter was settled at the 
bill-posting company’s office.” 

The policeman turned to Vascoss. 

Is this true? ” 

“ We claim these showboards for this week,” 
blustered Vascoss. We are not going to stand 
aside for anybody.” 

‘‘ Well, I won’t allow any rowing about it on 
the street,” said the policeman, after a pause. 

“ I suggested he come to the office with me,” 
said Paul. 

Wouldn’t that be fair ? ” asked the policeman. 

“ I won’t touch the boards again till I get 
orders,” said the bill-poster, and hopping into his 
wagon with his assistant, he drove offi 

Seeing this, there was nothing for Vascoss to 
do but to take Paul’s advice, and off the pair 
started, with Bunglemann in their wake, 


ALMOST A PITCHED BATTLE. 167 

Suddenly Paul stopped short. 

'' Look here, Bunglemann,” he said in a whis- 
per, “ you go to the office with Vascoss. Pll see 
if everything is right at the theater.’' 

The bass player agreed, and a moment later 
Paul hurried away alone. 

Vascoss’ actions had made the young band- 
master more supicious than ever, and, hailing a 
passing cab, he was driven to the theater with all 
possible speed. 

He found a large express wagon loaded with 
trunks and scenery backed up in the alleyway, 
close to the stage door. 

The expressman was arguing with the janitor 
of the theater about taking the stuff in. 

It’s got to go in — them’s my orders,” the ex- 
pressman was saying. So open up for me and 
be quick about it.” 

“ Whose stuff have you there ? ” asked Paul 
quietly. 

“ Trunks and scenery of the Golden Spade 
Company.” 

‘‘ They can’t come in here — at least, not this 
week.” 

‘‘What?” 

“ You heard what I said. Patterson, not a 
trunk comes in here, understand ? ” — the latter 
to the janitor. 

“ All right, Mr. Graham,” and the janitor, who 


i68 the young bandmaster. 

had taken a great liking to the young bandmaster, 
winked. 

“ But I don’t understand ” began the ex- 

pressman, when another man, the general man- 
ager of the Golden Spade Company, rushed into 
the alleyway. 

Seeing the man was in a fighting humor, Paul 
slipped into the theater and pulled the janitor in 
after him. Then the youth bolted the big stage 
door. 

In vain those outside hammered for admission. 

Paul knew that “ possession is nine points of 
the law,” and he was determined to “ hold the 
fort ” until Thompson appeared. 

The general manager of the Golden Spade 
company rushed round to the front of the theater, 
only to find that also locked. 

Finally he ordered the expressman to dump 
the trunks and scenery in the alleyway, and this 
was done. 

In an hour Thompson came back, his face cov- 
ered with a broad smile. He had not only 
brought the bill-posting company to terms, but 
he had got out an injunction against the Golden 
Spade company, restraining it from interfering 
in any way with the occupancy of the theater for 
one week longer. 

When the Golden Spade people heard of this 
latter move they were furious, and threatened to 


ALMOST A PITCHED BATTLE. 169 

go to law at once. But on taking legal advice 
they discovered that they could make but a poor 
showing in court, and so they ended by letting the 
matter drop and sneaking their trunks and scenery 
from the alleyway some time during the night. 

‘‘ We want to be on our guard against those 
chaps, said Thompson when it was all over. 

They’ll remember us and do us an injury if they 
can.” 

A report of what had happened crept into the 
daily papers. One journal made quite a spread 
of it, and as a consequence the theater, during the 
week following, was more crowded than ever. 

From Chicago the company went to St. Louis. 
Winter was now at its height, and at St. Louis 
they encountered almost a blizzard. It snowed 
for four days continually, and during that time 
the theater was nearly empty. 

“ We must take the bad with the good,” said 
Thompson cheerily, when Paul looked sober. 
‘‘Why, if every week on the road paid, we would 
all be millionaires in no time.” 

“No matter, I hate to take a step backward,” 
answered the young bandmaster. 

Paul’s solos on the cornet were now worthy of 
the largest houses. He was in reality a star. 
For his playing he received a good round sum 
per week, and for leading the band Anderson 
Powell allowed him an additional amount. 


170 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

“If this keeps on I won’t want what money 
Hiram Dunkirk is holding back on me,” he said 
to himself. “ But that miserly old codger must 
be brought to justice, and that is all there is to it.” 

From St. Louis the company proceeded to 
Kansas City, Omaha, and then to Minneapolis. 
At the latter place two of the musicians fell sick — 
an alto and a tenor player — and Paul had to call 
upon several local musicians to fill their places. 

Then came some trouble with the local mu- 
sical union, and as a consequence nearly every- 
body in the theater went on strike. 

“ Here’s a pickle, truly,” sighed Thompson. 
“ I don’t blame you, Paul, but what we are to do 
I don’t know.” 

“ Let us run the theater ourselves,” suggested 
Calliwax. “ I’ve done such work lots of times 
when I was — ahem — on the — ah ” 

“ When you were barnstorming,” laughed 
Thompson. “ All right. I’m willing, if we can 
manage it,” he added, after a moment’s thought. 

So it was arranged that Calliwax should take 
charge of the scene-shifting, while Thompson 
looked after the box-office, along with the local 
manager, who did not dare to leave. Calliwax 
hired two good-natured negroes to assist him, and 
spent an afternoon in giving the colored men in- 
structions. 

Those on strike heard of what was going on 


ALMOST A PITCHED BATTLE. 171 

and began to murmur. At last, just as the com- 
pany was ready to open, a letter was handed to 
Thompson, which read as follows : 

‘‘We are not to be cheated out of our rights. 
If you try to open up you’ll be sorry for it for the 
rest of your life. We mean business, and if you 
want to escape with a whole skin, be warned in 
time. 

“ The Watchers of Minneapolis.^" 



J 


CHAPTER XXIL 


A BATTLE WITH THE SCENE-SHIFTERS. 

What do you think of that? ’’ said Thomp- 
son, as he handed the note around for perusal. 

“ I don’t think the musical union sent that,” 
said Paul promptly. “ The players are too much 
of gentlemen, even if they are acting rather un- 
reasonably.” 

“ It’s those scene-shifters,” said Calliwax. 
“ They are a half-drunken crowd, and if I owned 
the house I would have discharged them long 
ago.” 

“ I believe myself it’s the scene-shifters,” said 
Thompson. “ The question is, what can they do 
to annoy us ? ” 

“ I don’t see that they can do anything if we 
keep them out of the theater,” replied Paul. Of 
course they may waylay us on the streets. We 
had better not travel around alone while we re- 
main in this city.” 

I’ll carry a pistol with me after this,” de- 
clared Horatio Calliwax, and others said the 
same. 

That evening about half-past six the three 


172 


A BATTLE WITH THE SCENE-SHIFTERS. I73 

scene-shifters applied at the stage door for ad- 
mittance. 

It was promptly denied. 

“ All right, we’ll git in fast enough,” grinned 
the leader, and marched off, followed by his com- 
panions. All of the trio had been drinking 
heavily. 

“ How will they do it ? ” mused Paul. “ I’m 
certain they won’t pay their admissions.” 

“ They ought to be watched,” said Thompson, 
with a serious shake of his head. 

I’ll watch them ! ” cried Paul, and an instant 
later he was following the trio. To avoid being 
recognized, he turned up his coat collar and pulled 
his hat far down over his eyes. 

The trio of scene-shifters left the theater alley 
and passed down to a side street. Here they en- 
tered the hallway of a building which was but half 
occupied. Paul heard them tramp up one flight 
of stairs after another, until the upper floor was 
gained. Here they paused at the foot of a step- 
ladder leading to a scuttle in the roof. 

“ It’s a good thing I thought to leave the the- 
ater scuttle unlocked,” said one of the scene- 
shifters. “ Getting across the roofs will be dead 
easy.” 

We must be careful after we enter the the- 
ater,” said another. “ They may have somebody 
up in the flies on the watch.” 


174 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ We’ll be careful enough, Barney,” grumbled 
the third. But after we are up there, how about 
turning the water on ? ” 

“ That will be easy, too. First we can set the 
pipe up so that it will pour down directly on the 
stage. Then I’ll fix a long cord to the shut-off, 
running it through the window to the roof, and 
the trick is done. Come on.” 

And up the ladder went the three men. 

Without waiting an instant, Paul rushed back 
to the theater and called Thompson aside. 

“ They are plotting to drown us out on the 
stage ! ” cried the young bandmaster, and gave 
the details. 

“We’ll nab them at their game,” answered 
Thompson. “ Calliwax, go out and hunt up a 
couple of policemen.” 

Five minutes later Thompson, Paul, and several 
other members of the organization tiptoed their 
way up to the flies. 

There was a long winding stair and then a 
“ bridge ” to cross, and they found themselves 
close to the skylight. 

“ Hist ! here they come ! ” whispered Paul, as 
the skylight was softly raised. “We had better 
get out of sight.” 

Back behind some flies they crouched, and in 
a moment the three scene-shifters had dropped on 
the flooring beside them. 


A BATTLE WITH THE SCENE-SHIFTERS, I75 

“ It’s good we know the ropes here,” whispered 
one. “ It’s so dark we can hardly see.” 

“ Hush ! don’t talk ! ” replied the leader, and 
then the trio became silent. 

In ten minutes more the gang had fixed a heavy 
hose pipe, put up for fire purposes, so that the 
nozzle pointed directly down upon the stage. 

Then the string was attached to the shut-off, 
as had been planned. 

All was now ready. The rascals had but to 
pull the string, when the water would run at a 
terrific force, and the stage, with all upon it, 
would be drowned out completely. 

“ Let them go ! ” whispered Thompson sud- 
denly. I’ll fix ’em ! ” 

As the rascals retreated to the roof again 
Thompson rushed forward and screwed the nozzle 
of the hose pipe shut. 

Then he motioned all to go below again. 

Calliwax had arrived with the policemen, who 
were speedily acquainted with the state of affairs 
and volunteered to watch the scene-shifters and 
catch them at work. 

At the proper time the curtain rolled up and 
the band began the first number of the pro- 
gramme. 

This was the signal to turn on the water, and 
all of the rascals on the roof pulled on the cord. 

Of course, thanks to Thompson, no rush of 


176 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

water followed. A few drops came down, and 
that was all. 

The policemen now rushed forward, and a 
fierce fight with the plotters ensued. 

Paul, on the stage, could hear the racket above 
plainly, and quickly ordered the band to play 
louder, and ordered the bass drummer to join in, 
even though the music called for silence on the 
part of that instrument. The overture was, con- 
sequently, hardly a success from a musical stand- 
point, but it drowned the noise of the disturbance, 
and that was just then of more importance than 
anything else. By the time the playing was over 
the three scene-shifters were under arrest and on 
the way to jail. Later on each got sixty days for 
his rascality. But to this day none of them can 
understand how their plans were discovered. 

“ That was a narrow shave,” said Paul when 
it was all over. Imagine the band playing and 
that waterfall coming down on us ! ” 

‘‘We would have got the grand laugh,” said 
one of the clarionet players, “ and the chances are 
the audience would have guyed us for the rest of 
the week.” 

Seeing they could do nothing to stop the per- 
formances, the musicians of the city declared the 
strike off, and those whom Paul had hired begged 
to come back, but the young bandmaster was ob- 
durate. 


A BATTLE WITH THE SCENE-SHIFTERS. 177 

“ You tried to cripple us, and now you’ll have 
to make the best of it,” and he did not engage any 
more outsiders until Milwaukee was reached, a 
week later. 

From Milwaukee the organization went to sev- 
eral smaller towns, and then to Detroit. At the 
latter place Thompson had a number of very inti- 
mate friends, for the city was his birthplace, and 
the entire company, including the band, enjoyed 
a dinner which was literally a feast. At this din- 
ner Calliwax gave a few humorous impersona- 
tions and Paul played a very difficult solo, and 
both performers made a score of new friends. 

From Detroit they moved to Buffalo for two 
nights, and then worked their way by one-night 
stands across New, York State to Brooklyn and 
then back to New York. Summer was now again 
at hand. 

In the meantime, however, matters of great 
national importance were occurring. The long- 
standing trouble between Spain and the United 
States, brought on largely by the war between 
Spain and her Cuban colony, had resulted in the 
blowing up of the battleship Maine in Havana 
harbor, and now war was declared between Uncle 
Sam and the upholders of the banner of Castile. 

This beats all ! ” cried Paul after hearing the 
news. My, but won’t we just punish those 
Dons for treating the Cubans so shamefully ! ” 


1 7 8 THE . YO UNG BAN DM A STER. 

'' I don’t believe the war will amount to much,” 
replied Calliwax. “ Spain hasn’t got the re- 
sources we have.” 

'' And she hasn’t got the backbone,” added the 
young bandmaster. “We will knock them out in 
the first fight.” 

The blowing up of the battleship Maine was 
followed, in May, by Admiral Dewey’s great vic- 
tory in Manila Bay. In the meantime thousands 
of our soldiers were gathering at various encamp- 
ments throughout the Eastern States, preparatory 
to an invasion of Cuba. When the recruits be- 
gan to get together Paul grew very enthusiastic. 

“ I’ve got half a notion to join the army,” he 
said to his friends. “ I believe I could fight as 
good as the majority of the soldiers.” 

“ Maybe you had better join some government 
band,” suggested Calliwax. 

“Just the thing!” ejaculated Paul. “Of 
course they’ll want to take some musicians to 
Cuba.” 

But the manager shook his head at this propo- 
sition. 

“ You must stay with the organization,” he 
said. “ If you don’t, our tour will be ruined.” 

And so, for the time being, Paul had to let the 
matter rest. But from that time on patriotic se- 
lections from the band were all the rage. 

Paul, Calliwax, and a number of the others had 


A BATTLE WITH THE SCENE-SHIFTERS. I79 

put Up at a well-known and comfortable theatrical 
boarding-house in West Twenty-fifth Street. 
Paul had just finished breakfast one morning 
when a small boy appeared with a note for him. 
The note was written in an uneven hand, on a 
half-sheet of note-paper, and ran as follows : 

“ Paul Graham : Please come down to the docks 
at the foot of West Eleventh Street. An old 
friend, with important news, would like to see 
you on the oyster boat of Corey & Basswood. 
Come at once.” 

The communication mystified Paul very much. 

Who had sent it? 

He looked around for the messenger, but the 
urchin had disappeared, having been particularly 
cautioned not to wait for an answer or to be 
questioned. 

He read the letter over several times. He 
would have shown it to Calliwax, but the imper- 
sonator had rushed off half an hour before, to 
obtain an interview with a prominent military 
man who was stopping in New York, and whom 
Calliwax intended to impersonate at the opening 
in Philadelphia. 

“ ril go down and see who it is,” murmured 
Paul, at length, and put on his overcoat and hat. 
‘‘ Perhaps it’s some friend from Stoneville who 


i 8 o the young bandmaster. 

has news of Hiram Dunkirk’s doings. But if 
he’s a friend, I don’t see why he couldn’t sign his 
name,” he added, much disturbed. 

It did not take the lad long to reach the neigh- 
borhood mentioned. At this spot on the North 
River there is a long string of flat-boats, or scows, 
drawn up side by sde, where a score or more of 
dealers in oysters and clams do a thriving whole- 
sale business. Paul walked slowly along until 
the sign of Corey & Basswood caught his eye. 

The scow bearing the firm’s name was one of 
the smallest and meanest-looking of the row. It 
had not been painted for years, and the sign was 
so weather-beaten it could scarcely be deciphered. 
In front of the place were a lot of barrels filled 
with oyster shells. No one seemed to be around, 
and the front doors, open on the other scows, were 
tightly closed on this one. 

Paul hesitated for a minute, then ran down the 
incline and tried the doors. One was unlocked, 
and he stepped inside. 

Hullo, Paul Graham ! ” cried a voice from be- 
hind a lot of barrels. “ Glad to see you. Come 
this way ! ” 

The voice did not sound altogether familiar, 
yet the greeting was cheery enough, and Paul 
hurried forward, wondering who the speaker 
could be. 

Scarcely had he covered fifty feet of the length 


A BATTLE WITH THE SCENE-SHIFTERS. l8i 

of the scow than he found himself pounced upon 
from behind. He struggled to release himself, 
and glancing over his shoulder, discovered that 
his assailant was Mike Hooney! 

“You scoundrel, let go of me!” gasped the 
youth, realizing all in a flash how he had been 
trapped. 

“ But I aint lettin' go just de same,” replied 
Mike Hooney, with a horrible grin. “ Stand 
still, or it will be de worst fer yer ! Bring up dat 
rope. Captain Scully.” 

“ Let go, I say I ” continued Paul; and now he 
bent down, and with a quick twist almost flung 
Hooney over his head. The tough let out a yell 
of alarm. 

“ Hit him wid de club, captain I ” he cried. 
“ Hit him, quick, afore he raises de hull neigh- 
borhood ! ” 

At these words a second individual, tall, black- 
bearded, and with a wicked face, sprang into 
view. In one hand he held a rope, and in the 
other a belaying-pin. 

“ You had better give in, boy,” he said roughly. 
“ You have no chance against us. Duff, lock the 
door, so nobody else can come in.” 

At these words a third man, a sailor, came into 
view. He ran to the door and locked it. And 
Paul realized that he was a prisoner. He 
struggled for a few seconds longer; then, as Cap- 


i 82 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


tain Scully threatened him with the belaying-pin, 
he became silent. 

“ What does this mean ? ” he demanded, glanc- 
ing first at the nautical men and then at Hooney. 

“ Maybe yer don’t remember me,” sneered the 
tough. 

I do — very well.” 

''Do yer, now? You’ll remember me more 
afore I’m done wid yer.” 

"What is your game? Tell me at once. If 
you want money you’ve fooled yourself, for I 
have less than a dollar in my pocket.” 

"Just de same. I’ll take dat diamond sparkler 
from yer scarf,” grinned Hooney, and snatched 
away the gift of Madame Peripot. 

"Hi! Give me back that diamond!” ejacu- 
lated Paul, and in his anger he rushed at the 
tough, and with one well-directed blow laid him 
flat. 

But that blow settled the contest so far as the 
youth was concerned. Alarmed at the situation. 
Captain Scully and Duff, the sailor, leaped in. 
Down came the belaying-pin, and Paul saw a mil- 
lion stars dance before his eyes. As he staggered 
back. Duff caught him around the arms and chest, 
and in a trice the captain made him a close 
prisoner. 

Finding himself next to helpless, Paul started 
to cry out. But Mike Hooney had prepared for 


A BATTLE WITH THE SCENE-SHIETERS. 1S3 

such an emergency, and drawing from his pocket 
a pitch-plaster, he scrambled up and clapped it 
over the youth’s mouth. 

Paul was now deprived not only of his voice, 
but a large part of his wind as well, and was con- 
sequently, in no condition to renew the fight. 
Yet, not satisfied with binding and plastering him, 
the three rascals wound him up in a large piece of 
sail-cloth, covering him from head to feet. Then 
a rope was tied about the long-looking bundle, 
and he was carried forth from the oyster scow to 
where a large rowboat lay in waiting. 

The next half-hour was one of great suffering • 
to Paul. He could scarcely breathe, and expected 
every minute to be smothered to death. He 
found himself riding over the water. Presently 
he was lifted up to the deck of a schooner, the 
White Thrush, and carried to the forward hatch. 
The sail-cloth was removed, and he caught a brief 
glance of his surroundings. Then down he went 
into darkness, the hatch was closed over him, and 
he was left to his reflections. 

Ten minutes more and the tramping of sailors’ 
feet and the creaking of ropes and blocks told him 
that the schooner was getting under way. He 
wondered to where the ship was bound. He 
would have been much astonished, and more dis- 
concerted than ever, had he been told that her 
destination was Rio de Janeiro, Brazil! 


CHAPTER XXIIL 


AN ENCOUNTER ON THE SCHOONER. 

The air in the forward hold of the White 
Thrush was far from pure and smelt strongly of 
tar and bilge water. What little Paul could get 
of it, with the pitch-plaster over his mouth, made 
him sick, and he would have given a good deal to 
have been safe in New York once more. 

• Hour after hour went by, until the pitching of 
the schooner told him that the harbor had been 
left behind and they were now on the bosom of 
the mighty Atlantic. During this time he had 
been working at his bonds, and at last one of his 
hands came free. The other soon followed, then 
the pitch-plaster was torn away, and soon he 
found himself entirely at liberty within the con- 
fines of the White Thrush's forward hold. 

All was still black around him, and he had to 
walk about with caution, for fear of dashing out 
his brains against the boxes and barrels which 
were piled up on every side. Occasionally he 
could hear the tramp of feet overhead, but that 
was all. 

“ Pm in a pickle, and no mistake,” he muttered 
dismally. “ I wonder what they intend to do 

184 


AJ\r ENCOUNTER ON THE SCHOONER. 185 

with me? Like as not, if the ship is bound for 
some distant port, they’ll try to make me become 
a member of the crew. Such things have oc- 
curred before. Well, they’ll have a job trying to 
make me do their wishes,” and he set his teeth 
hard at the thought. 

Paul had a match-case with him, and presently 
he drew it forth. It contained but a single lucifer, 
and this he struck, after having picked up a bit of 
tarred rope with which to make a temporary 
torch. 

The feeble light enabled him to see but little 
except the boxes and barrels before mentioned. 
Seeing that the boxes all bore addresses, he looked 
several of them over. 

“ Rio de Janeiro ! ” he ejaculated, and his heart 
sank. “ Great Caesar ! is the ship bound for that 
distant South American port ! Why, it’s a two- 
months’ trip ! ” 

At that moment the tarred rope spluttered and 
went out, leaving him in darkness once more. 
Utterly discouraged, he sank on a box and gave 
himself up to his bitter reflections. 

Slowly the day wore away, and Paul began to 
wonder if his captors were going to let him die of 
hunger and thirst, when the hatch above was 
hauled aside, a ladder was lowered, and Captain 
Scully came down, lantern in hand. His dismay 
at seeing Paul free can easily be imagined. 


i86 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ How did you get loose ? he demanded, 
hanging his lantern on a nail driven in a beam 
overhead. 

“ I’ve had plenty of time in which to work it,” 
answered Paul, as calmly as he could. “ It’s a 
wonder vou wouldn’t starve me to death and be 
done with it.” 

“ It was kind o’ rough on you, lad,” answered 
the captain; “but you can have some supper be- 
fore you turn in. You’ll find we are not a bad 
sort on board of the White Thrush when you get 
to know us.” 

“ Why was I brought on board ? ” 

“ Well, in the first place, I was short of a hand 
and didn’t have time to ship a man in the regular 
way; in the second place, because your intimate 
friend, Mike Hooney, requested it.” 

“ It was a plot between you and this Hooney, 
I suppose. How long do you expect to keep me 
on board ? ” 

“ To the end of the voyage.” 

“ Until you get to Rio de JaneirvO? ” 

“ You’ve hit it first guess.” 

“ Supposing I won’t stay ? ” 

“ You’ll have to stay. We are on the ocean, 
almost out of sight of land, and I don’t think 
you’ll risk jumping overboard and swimming 
ashore.” 

“ You had no right to ‘ shanghai ’ me in this 
fashion.” 


AN ENCOUNTER ON THE SCHOONER, 187 

“ We won’t argue that point, lad.” Captain 
Scully’s face grew stern. What I want to 
know is, now you are on board and shipped for 
the trip, do you intend to behave yourself or 
not?” 

That depends on what you call behaving 
yourself. I’m not going to pound my head 
against a stone wall just for the fun of it.” 

“ I see you have some sense about you. Now 
let me speak plainly. You can come on deck and 
I’ll introduce you to the crew. Duff, the boat- 
swain, will take you in hand, and if you don’t get 
seasick, I reckon you’ll pick up a good bit in a 
week, as much as some of them lubbering Swedes 
pick up in a lifetime. So long as you behave 
yourself and do your duty I’ll treat you well, and 
at the end of the trip I’ll pay you off, same as the 
rest.” 

“ And after that? ” 

“ After that you can ship again or not, just as 
you please,” answered Captain Scully, but there 
was a peculiar glitter in his black eyes, for part of 
his agreement with Mike Hooney had been that 
Paul should be given no opportunity to come back 
to the United States. 

Paul was silent for a moment, and during that 
silence he thought rapidly. He had no intention 
of sailing to Rio de Janeiro if it could be avoided. 
But there would be no use in angering Captain 


i88 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

Scully by saying so. By playing the part of one 
subdued and satisfied, it was likely he would fare 
much better. 

“Well, you’ll have to give me something to 
eat and drink soon,” he said. “ If you don’t 
you’ll have a sick hand on the ship’s log.” 

“ You can have supper at once,” answered Cap- 
tain Scully, delighted to think the youth had been 
so easily subdued. “ Nothing like letting ’em get 
hungry to bring ’em to terms,” he muttered to 
himself. 

He led the way up the ladder, and Paul fol- 
lowed. The sun had set and the air on deck was 
damp and cold. Duff stood close at hand, and 
the captain turned Paul over to the sailor. 

The food offered the boy was coarser than he 
had ever eaten, even at Hiram Dunkirk’s place, 
yet, with such an appetite, nothing had ever tasted 
better. He ate up every mouthful set before him, 
then followed Duff into the forecastle. 

“ There’s some old sea clo’s,” said the sailor, 
pointing to a pile of tar-stained garments lying 
on a chest. “ Better wear them and put yer good 
clo’s away fer the present.” 

The clothing made Paul feel sick again. They 
were more than dirty — they were filthy, and he 
turned away. 

“ I’ll wear what I’ve got,” he answered. 
“ Where am I to sleep ? ” 


AN ENCOUNTER ON THE SCHOONER. 189 

“ Over in the upper bunk in the corner. But 
you can’t turn in just yet. Come on deck and Fll 
show ye some of the ropes. Did ye ever climb a 
mast ? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Better learn fust thing then. It’s better to 
learn in calm weather than to have to make a 
break during a storm. Now then, up ye go. It’s 
easy enough, and you won’t git giddy if yer don’t 
look down.” 

Up the ratlines on one side of the mast went 
Paul, and came down on the side opposite. An 
hour’s instructions in handling sails followed, and 
Paul learned readily, although his thoughts were 
far away. Life on the White Thrush did not 
strike him as favorable, and he wondered how 
soon an opportunity to leave would present 
itself. 

When the time came he started to turn in with 
several sailors. But the air in the forecastle was 
foul to the last degree; the bunk assigned to him 
he found inhabited by innumerable bugs and 
roaches, and at last he had to seek the deck to 
keep his stomach from revolting. 

Two weeks passed by, and still the ship kept on 
her southerly course. One night Paul came up 
to find a storm brewing. 

“ We’re in fer a reg’lar southwest storm,” he 
heard one of the sailors remark. ‘‘To my way 


190 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

o’ thinkin’, the cap’n better take in a few reefs all 
around.” 

“ Where do you calculate we are? ” asked Paul 
drawing closer. 

“ We’re off the Cuban coast,” answered the tar. 
“ It’s a g*ood thing we aint sailin’ under no 
American nor Spanish flag, or we might have 
trouble.” For the White Thrush flew the flag 
of England. 

Cuba! Paul had often heard of that famous 
island since the war with Spain had started. If 
he could only swim to the shore! But the idea 
was not worth considering, for the schooner was 
all of three miles out. 

The wind began to rise, and presently word was 
sent down to the cabin, where Captain Scully and 
his first mate were indulging in a bottle of liquor 
and some strong cigars. The captain came on 
deck, much the worse for the potions he had con- 
sumed. 

“ Lively there ! ” he yelled. “ Lively, boys ! 
Confound it! are ye all gone to sleep? Up on 
deck and take in the mainsail! We’re in for a 
blow, an’ no mistake.” 

Then his eyes fell upon Paul, who stood still, 
not knowing what to do. 

‘‘ You lubber, get to work or I’ll rope-end you! 
Up there, now, to the masthead. Duff, take him 
up with you,’^ 


AN ENCOUNTER ON THE SCHOONER. 19 1 

“ Aye, aye, sir ! ” answered Duff. ‘‘ Come,” 
he added to Paul, up you go. It’s good you 
know the trick. No time to waste, either ! ” 

The last words were uttered as a heavy blast 
struck the White Thrush, sending the schooner 
well over on her side. Up into the rigging flew 
the sailors, and Paul started to follow. But be- 
fore the ratlines were gained Captain Scully was 
after him with a rope’s end. 

That to make you hurry ! ” he snapped, and 
struck the youth across the shoulders. 

The blow cut into Paul’s very soul. It was 
bad enough to be kidnapped without being abused 
afterward. He whirled around and whipped the 
rope’s end from the captain’s hand. 

“You brute!” he cried, and let the captain 
have the stinging lash full in the face. “ There’s 
another for you, and another ! and another ! ” and 
down came the rope’s end again and again, until, 
with yells of pain. Captain Scully began to retreat. 
Paul was on the point of following him up when, 
with a wild shriek, the wind again struck the 
White Thrush, throwing her almost on her beam 
end, and in a twinkle the boy was hurled over- 
board into the seething sea. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS MYSTIFIED. 

“ So he’s gone, an’ dat reward is mine.” 

It was Mike Hooney who spoke. He was tak- 
ing it easy in the sitting room of the Dunkirk 
homestead, a black-looking cigar stuck between 
his yellow teeth and the air about him filled with 
vile-smelling smoke. 

“ You are certain the White Thrush sailed off 
with him?” said Hiram Dunkirk nervously. 
“ There was no chance for him to escape ? ” 

Not der least bit. Captain Scully said he 
wouldn’t leave der rat out of de hold until de ship 
was a mile or more out on de ocean.” 

“ And the ship was bound for Rio de Janeiro ? ” 
went on Paul’s guardian slowly. “ Won’t she 
make any stop before she gets there ? ” ' 

“ No.” 

“But Paul may come back, even from Rio de 
Janeiro. He is a smart lad, in his way.” 

“ De captain will attend ter dat,” and Hooney 
shook his head decidedly and blew out such a 
volume of smoke it made Hiram Dunkirk sick, 
for he did not smoke himself — not because he did 

192 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS MYSTIFIED. 193 

not wish to, but because he had always been too 
mean to buy either cigars or tobacco. 

Hiram Dunkirk began to walk up and down 
nervously. 

“ So yer see de reward is mine,” went on 
Hooney, after a pause. 

Let me see, how much did I promise you ? 
Fifty dollars, wasn’t it?” 

“Wot? Not much! It was three hundred, 
old man.” 

“ No! no!” 

“I say it was, an^ yer can’t cheat me, see?” 
growled Mike Hooney angrily. “ Fork over de 
cash.” 

Fliram Dunkirk gave a half-audible groan. 

“ I’ll give you a hundred dollars; that is more 
than the job is worth.” 

Mike Hooney’s eyes began to blaze. 

“ So dat’s de way yer goin’ ter try ter t’row 
me over, is it ? ” he demanded, sticking his repul- 
sive chin into Dunkirk’s face. “ Well, I’ll tell 
yer flat, it won’t work — see ? It won’t work ! ” 

“ I’ll give you a hundred dollars, that’s all,” 
answered Paul’s guardian firmly. 

Hooney drew a long breath. Then he sud- 
denly changed his tactics. 

•“It aint fair, but I’ll take it,” he answered 
briefly. 

In a few minutes the money was paid over. 


194 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


The tough counted it carefully, noted that the 
bills were genuine, and stuck them into his vest 
pocket. 

“ Do yer know where Fm goin' now ? he 

asked, as he stepped toward the door. 

^' Back to New York, I presume,” said Dun- 
kirk. “ And I hope you’ll — er — forget all about 
this little transaction.” 

‘‘ Furgit nothin ! I played yer fair, an’ now 
you’re throwin’ me over. Yer promised me t’ree 
hundred dollars, an’ yer paid me one hundred. 
Fm goin’ down to de county seat an’ give yer dead 
away, dat’s where Fm goin’.” 

At these words Hiram Dunkirk nearly fainted. 
He clutched at the table and then at Mike 
Hooney’s arm. 

‘‘You — you — scoundrel! How dare you? 
And with my hard-saved money in your pocket ! ” 
he gasped. 

“Your money? Dat boy’s money, yer mean. 
Yes, Fm goin’ to de county seat and tell every- 
t’ing.” 

“ You’ll only get arrested for it.” 

“ Fer wot? Fer overhearin’ a deal you made 
wid a man I didn’t know ter git de boy out of de 
way? Dat boy will never come back, I tell yer, 
so who is to say dat my yarn aint true? While 
everybody knows — or dey will know — why you 
wanted to git rid of Graham,” 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS MYSTIFIED. I95 

'' You’re a — a fiend ! ” murmured Hiram 
Dunkirk; and now every particle of color had 
left his face. 

'' No, I aint. I want yer ter play fair, dat’s all. 
Fork over de balance of dat money an’ yer will 
find me all right.” 

Hiram Dunkirk grated his teeth. He threat- 
ened, argued, and coaxed, all to no purpose. 
Hooney remained firm, and in the end the two 
rascals drove off to Tipton and to the bank, where 
Dunkirk drew some additional cash and made 
good his first promise. 

I don’t want you any more at present,” he 
said to Hooney, on parting at the depot. “ But 
leave me your address, and if anything turns up 
I’ll write you.” And Hooney left his address. 

Four hours later Hooney was in Boston, 
among his old friends, squandering the money so 
vigorously that the three hundred dollars squeezed 
out of Hiram Dunkirk lasted less than a week. 
But Hooney did not care for this. 

“I’ve got a hold on de old man,” he muttered. 
“ He can’t shake me, an’ I’ll make him give me 
more whenever I want it.” 

Before paying over the extra money Hiram 
Dunkirk had obtained a New York newspaper at 
the railroad depot, and on one of the pages had 
read a brief acount to the effect that Paul Gra- 
ham, of Powell’s Golden Cornet Band, was miss- 


196 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

ing and his friends were looking for him every- 
where. 

The train with Hooney gone, Dunkirk stuffed 
the paper in his pocket and walked over to the 
county courthouse. 

He had to record a deed for a strip of land 
bought from Joel Burgess, and this work took 
him the best part of an hour. 

While he was awaiting around he ran across 
the surrogate, a man named Pepper ill Wilder, 
who knew Dunkirk well. 

“ Hullo, Dunkirk ! ’’ said Wilder, shaking 
hands, and an all-round conversation took 
place. 

'' By the way, Dunkirk, I had a lawyer from 
Boston up here a few days ago, looking over 
Maurice Graham’s will,” said the surrogate pres- 
ently. 

'‘You did?” returned Paul’s guardian, com- 
pletely staggered. “Who was he?” 

“ Gave his name as Clinton Fairfield.” 

“ What did he want of the will? ” 

“ I don’t know. He took a copy of it, and then 
asked me if I knew anything about the quarry 
company’s affairs. After that he went into the 
county clerk’s office.” 

Of course Hiram Dunkirk was more than inter- 
ested — he was decidedly troubled. Returning to 
the county clerk’s office, he asked the clerk con- 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS MYSTIFIED. 197 

cerning the mysterious Clinton Fairfield’s busi- 
ness. 

“ He copied off a lot of records concering the 
quarry company’s transfers,” replied the county 
clerk. I can’t tell you exactly what, for I was 
very busy.” 

Where did he go after he left here? ” 

“ Took the stage up to Stoneville.” 

“ Humph!” 

Hiram Dunkirk said no more. But instead of 
returning home, he waited for the stage to come 
in, and then questioned the driver concerning 
Clinton Fairfield. 

I took him to Eliza Dunwell’s cottage,” said 
the driver. I remember him well, for he was 
the only stranger aboard, and asked particularly 
about Eliza and how long she had lived here.” 

At this news Hiram felt more sick than ever. 
Eliza Dunwell was an old negro woman who 
had worked for the Dunkirks at the time Mr. 
Graham died, when Hiram Dunkirk became 
Paul’s guardian. The negro woman knew much 
concerning the past, but, as the Dunkirks had 
taken particular pains to treat her well in her old 
age, she had never as yet opened her mouth about 
what information she possessed. 

Having gained this information, Hiram Dun- 
kirk lost no time in driving back to Stoneville, 
and then to the little cottage the negro woman 


19S THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 

called her home. Ascending the half-tumbled- 
down porch, he rapped sharply at the door. 

No answer was vouchsafed, and he walked 
around to the rear. Finally, growing impatient, 
he raised a window and entered the house. 

‘‘ Eliza ! Eliza Dunwell ! ” he called out, but 
no answer came back. He walked out and down 
to a bit of a barn in the rear. 

“Hi, Mr. Dunkirk, looking for Eliza?” It 
was a voice from a neighboring field. 

“Yes, Silox. Where is she?” 

“ Gone tew Boston with a lawyer ez come fer 
her,” answered the farmer addressed. 

“To Boston!” 

“ Exactly. The lawyer got her tew trick out 
in her very best, and she left word she mightn’t 
be back fer a week or more.” 

Hiram Dunkirk gave an inward groan. What 
did it all mean? Was some secret enemy at 
work, or had Paul started an investigation pre- 
vious to his disappearance? 

“ I’ll have to watch matters closer than ever,” 
he muttered, as he drove homeward. “ I’ve 
worked too hard to get this fortune to let it slide 
out of my grip, more especially now when Paul is 
out of the way for good.” 

“Wot’s a-troublin’ you, Hiram?” asked Mrs. 
Dunkirk, when he came in. 

“ A heap,” he answered sourly. “ Some law- 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS MYSTIFIED. 1 99 

yer is investigating Maurice Graham’s will and 
the Quarry Company’s affairs.” 

“ Well, they can’t tech you, can they? ” 

Don’t know as they can, but they have carted 
old Eliza off, and are going to pump her, I ex- 
pect,” and Hiram Dunkirk shook his head dubi- 
ously. 

“ They can’t get anything out of her now. 
She’s too old.” 

They may get more than I want ’em to. I 
made a mistake, Margy, when I didn’t send Eliza 
away back in the country, with them Pirkens, or 
somebody else,” sighed Hiram Dunkirk. “ Then 
they couldn’t find her, nohow.” 

Hiram Dunkirk passed several uncomfortable 
Jays thinking matters over. Every time a man 
or a wagon came near the place he would start, 
fearing a visit from the mysterious Clinton Fair- 
field, who was, as the reader has probably imag- 
ined, the lawyer friend Horace Browler had men- 
tioned to Paul. 

But as day after day went by, and nothing de- 
veloped, his reassurance asserted itself, and he 
reached the conclusion that the investigation had 
failed of its object. 

Perhaps nothing will be done until Paul turns 
up,” he thought. “ And as the boy is gone for 
good, I am safe.” 


CHAPTER XXV. 


BOUND FOR CUBA. 

'' Man overboard ! ” 

“ It’s only that boy ! ” yelled Captain Scully. 

The Old Nick take him! let him drown! ” 

Such were the brief words uttered when Paul 
was swept overboard. 

The lad did not hear them. The movement 
came so quickly that he had no time to save him- 
self. For one minute he was in the air; the next 
sousing down, down into the brine of the mighty 
ocean. 

When he came to the surface of the rolling 
waters all was darkness around him. Far ahead 
he saw the lights of the White Thrush rapidly dis- 
appearing from view. In less than two minutes 
they were gone. 

The cold water chilled him, and he shivered 
from head to foot. He was alone on the dreary 
waste of the mighty Atlantic. He must give 
himself up for lost. 

Something still remained in his right hand. It 
was the rope’s end. With a kind of grim satis- 
faction he flung it from him. 


200 


BOUND FOR CUBA. 


201 


“ Even if I have to die, Til be glad I gave that 
brute something of what he deserves,” was the 
thought which flashed through his mind. 

Presently, as he bobbed up and down on the 
ocean swells, he discovered far to the southward 
a number of flashing lights. That they belonged 
to some lighthouse he felt certain, but this gave 
him small satisfaction. 

I can’t swim the distance,” he muttered, 
‘‘ and I can’t float until daylight unless I can find 
something to float on. Oh ! if I only had a life- 
preserver, or a plank, or something ! ” 

The situation was serious, and presently Paul 
grew very sober. Was he to die there, alone, 
under that murky sky, now occasionally lit up by 
far-away flashes of lightning? Was this to be 
the miserable end of all ? 

“ While there is life there is hope,” he said half 
aloud, but the whistling wind made the words 
seem a mockery. 

Ten minutes passed. To the youth they ap- 
peared so many hours. He was growing be- 
numbed and his teeth were chattering. He felt 
he could not hold out much longer. 

What was that? He raised himself up with a 
start. It was — no, it wasn’t — yes, it was — a 
light! A light, and coming toward him! He 
gave a mad shout. 

An instant after a flash of lightning revealed 


202 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 


the outline of a small steam tug, headed directly 
for the spot where he floated. She was coming 
on steadily. She might even strike him and 
carry him under. 

“ Help! help! help!^’ 

Never had he yelled louder, and the call was 
repeated over and over until he was actually out 
of breath. The little tug kept coming closer, and 
at last his cry was heard. 

'' It’s somebody in the water ! ” came to Paul’s 
ears, as the craft swept dangerously close. Then, 
as a life-line came whizzing toward him, he 
clutched it as a drowning man clutches a straw. 
The speed of the little raft was slackened, 
and, more dead than alive, he was hauled on 
board. 

'' A boy ! ” cried a military man who seemed to 
be in charge. “ You’re lucky, lad, to have us 
come along as we did.” 

Noting Paul’s condition, he ran the lad directly 
into the galley and had the cook stir up the fire 
and make a pot of hot coffee. The storm was 
now at its height, and for three hours no one 
came to disturb the worn-out castaway. 

When finally the captain of the tug did appear, 
he was almost as tired as Paul, for the storm had 
been a wild one, and more than once the wind 
had threatened to cast him up on the shore be- 
yond. But now the wind had grown more 



THE RESCUE OF PAUL. P. 202 





• • • 


i I 


’ r .'i' 






v 


% .• *.•• 

• .1 ▼ 


VV. . 









1 4 




. ' . “»• \\Xt ,\ 

»*' ^ V ''■■*'■ 1 ' h\. - ■ :* •. • 

' . ■ • \ V., ' • f . ! *. ' '• 





•'a /' 


^ . ' • '*•*-•'' * 0 ^ . * 
% ■»-.. • ,... •• P:^ 

• ■ ■ . • >4:- 




... 

4 M ■ ^ 

\--- . r:^‘> 


» \ 


.'^- ' .■ 


•i 

'^X - 


» « 


H *• 




• f 

k 

f 


• S 




.« • 



-‘''''.‘"ii ■ ■" ■■: 

‘ r-Si- *■ . 

i*.*-./. r f.' ) 

.4- * ^ k 












f/. 1? 

. ■' . '1 i' ^ -y. L. i 

' #5^; , 

•' • ^ • C , .1 

it - • / * ‘ 


• 4 

*>■ ’ 


1 

2 . 

i * 

fS 


. fy 


A r 


> 

A '• 


Vr^V,'-. 


4 

% ; 




' * f V. 


•. 


•* • 




. - • 


•I. 




V 


^ « 


> 


« k 


4 


• •vl 

« • 






^ ' • r'^* ' 


u/'" 


-Ajyi 
^ 4 . 


; .•••• 


•. • - ^ 

f 




Tt 


/4 


* 

> » 

r 


-■)• ■ 

• . 4 ‘ i' 

^ ^ ^ <* 

,. - ' .V 

• k*** 

- 4 . 


t . 

I 


^ I 


t * 


. ■'•-*'.■’* .St, 


't, 

‘ *» i . 

• » 5 * -••• ^ 




• I 


^ ' 
# V 




y. 

*• 




V 


% * 






4. ► 


A 'k 


* 


V ^- , - 


\r- 

4 •: T 


» r 

A 


-v -';'f 

1. •-,•;* '.•*. * • ■'■" .. ; ^•: 


• 1 


» 4 


■.' ' 


» Cf*\ 


% 

• -/ 






‘ k’'"' i. 

-V>i/- 


• • ' '•*.-•• y.X' 


/ i* 





. * 


' > 

i • 


J • Av 






.’ f 


1 ."■'‘■yy >; 




.• / 




•. ' y.\ ^•. 

.••'44 ’ 


• 2 

» 




1 >1 , . 


:• 


\ 


V, 

. ;» . » 
I t r 


I • 


1- /v- '* 

‘ ■' /. 


> • ' 




‘-‘ y; 


'4. ■ ■•■ A 

«•* 

'■4-' . 


# • 


~ < 1 - »- - 


. ■- V - 

V X'' • • 

r,: ^ 

V' -V^‘ ' 
V\ ^ 


n > 

A 


■* V- 


■•V 


(* 


t 


.j 

►> . 


• '•'• •, '- >f5v|fr<h4 

- .- - . v- y ' 

- 't- ' : 

f r . 

>» ? V 


• 1 ' 




, ( 




*-.3‘ 




• * ' 
\ 


41^ 


.4- 

• p » 






■•■ ■■ ■ ■•,; ' y' 

/•. • .; ' V V 

' ^ * * 'V . ' 


•V -Mr .* 




* < 


4 • 


V 

» ». 


X 


» ✓ / 





f • 


•• ' 
I • 


:i-.’ r 

• •'M** •'. 




*• • 




:. v' 

/ '• 


A . . 
•». • 


■ * ■ ^ <• ■ • -^ 


« • 




•A 

■ 




) 


• A. », 


.s 


V 

^‘.c , » 

J 


;:■'' :' ■; ^- *^/:. . .. 

• : •.* • ^•- *• 


* ' • . - • TVt- *■; i- 

-•>#•-.’>“• *.’. .‘..iV -S 




^ ' 1 < « 

«. ^ * A • . 

'* .' r‘ ' ^ 



t* ti i.-* ' 


BOUND FOR CUBA. 


203 


steady, and the Arrow, which was the name of 
the tug, was running out to sea. 

Captain Dunforth listened to Paul’s story with 
interest. 

“ Runs like a romance,” he smiled. “ But I 
believe you, for such things have happened before. 
It’s lucky we chanced along as we did.” 

“ This doesn’t look like an ordinary steam tug,” 
remarked Paul. “ You appear to have several 
soldiers on board.” 

At this Captain Dunforth smiled. 

‘‘ This vessel belongs to the United States 
Navy,” he answered. “ The soldiers you see are 
government officers.” 

And where are you bound ? ” 

‘‘ You will have to ask Lieutenant Carwell that 
question. The Arrow is on a secret mission and 
I am not allowed to answer questions.” 

If that’s the case I’ll wager you are bound for 
Cuba ! ” cried the young bandmaster. “ I know 
we were close to the Cuban shore when I was 
picked up.” 

At this moment Lieutenant Carwell appeared. 
He was a tall, handsome man and had a kindly 
face. He listened to all Paul had to say with 
close attention. 

Yes, there is no need for further secrecy,” he 
said. “We are bound for Cuba on a government 
mission.” What it was he did not add, but later 


204 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


on Paul discovered that it was to arrange with 
certain Cuban insurgents to co-operate with the 
American army of invasion when it should arrive. 

The officers on the tug numbered six, and soon 
Paul was introduced to them. The youth lis- 
tened eagerly to all that they had to tell about 
what was going on in the army and navy. 

“We are sending out a large army from Key 
West,” said one of the officers. “ General 
Shafter will have at least sixteen thousand men.” 

“ They will need a good many ships,” said 
Paul. 

“ He will have over thirty transports.” 

“ And where will they land, at Havana? ” 

“ No, near Santiago, where we have Admiral 
Cervera bottled up in the harbor. Take my word 
for it, all of the fighting in Cuba will be done in 
and around Santiago.” 

“ I’d like to be in it,” said Paul, with a smile. 
“ I’ve wanted to join the army right along, but 
my professional engagement kept me back.” 

“You may be right in it even so,” put in an- 
other officer. “ Now you are with us I don’t see 
but what you will have to remain.” 

This put a new light on the matter, and Paul 
at once began to question Captain Dunforth and 
Lieutenant Carwell about the prospects. 

“ I don’t see anything to do but to take you 
along,” said the military man. “ Our secret mis- 


BOUND FOR CUBA. 


205 


sion will render it necessary for us to keep away 
from all other vessels excepting such as belong to 
our navy. Of course you needn’t land with us 
unless you wish to do so. Captain Dunforth will 
remain on the Arrow with his crew and you can 
stay on board until we are ready to go back to the 
United States.” 

No, if I must go to Cuba I want to do my 
duty at the front,” said Paul quickly. “ But I 
wish I could send word to my friends that I am 
safe,” he added. 

“ You shall send word as soon as it can be ar- 
ranged.” 

The Arrow was running along the eastern 
coast of Cuba. Soon they passed Cape Maysi 
and then they turned westward toward Guan- 
tanamo Bay, which is but a few miles from 
Santiago. 

During the next day they stood well out to sea, 
but as night settled down, they turned again for 
the Cuban coast. As they drew nearer. Lieu- 
tenant Carwell watched eagerly, glass in hand. 

“ There they are ! ” he cried suddenly, and 
looking in the direction, Paul saw several lights 
flash up. They showed themselves six times, 
then went out, to reappear five minutes later. 

“ It’s a signal from the Cubans,” explained a 
sailor to the young bandmaster. “ I reckon we’ll 
run in now.” 


2o6 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


The tar was right. The Arrow was headed 
directly for the point where the lights had ap- 
peared, and soon the tug was as close to the rocky 
shore as the surf permitted. Then a small boat 
was lowered and Lieutenant Carwell and two 
others left the Arrow. 

The officers were gone the best part of three 
hours. When they returned the face of the lieu- 
tenant was wreathed in smiles. 

‘‘ We’ve played the Spaniards a neat trick,” he 
said. “ I hope the transports arrive to-morrow.” 

“ What about going ashore? ” asked Paul. 

You can’t do that now, for we must steam to 
meet General Shatter and his army.” 

Soon the Arrow was plowing through the sea 
at full speed, leaving a long line of white foam in 
her wake. As there was nothing to do, Paul 
went to bed and slept soundly. 

A shrill cry, answered by a steam whistle, 
aroused him at dawn. Rushing on deck he was 
amazed to see a perfect flotilla of vessels gathered 
around the steam tug. They were the transports 
carrying the army of invasion and the war ves- 
sels sent along as a guard. 

“What a grand sight!” burst from his lips, and 
then, as the sounds of music from a military band 
broke upon his ears, he clapped his hands. 
“ That’s what I wanted to hear ! ” he cried. 
“ Oh, how I would like to join that band! ” 


BOUND FOR CUBA, 


207 


'' ril land you on that ship if you wish,” said 
Lieutenant Carwell, and so it was arranged, and 
soon Paul found himself among the members of 
one of Uncle Sam’s leading brass bands, bound 
for Cuba with the army of invasion, to assist in 
the attack on Santiago. 

The musicians soon learned what a player the 
boy was, and as one of the B-flat cornet players 
had been taken sick with fever, the man’s instru- 
ment was turned over to Paul, along with a mili- 
tary uniform, and he was told to come along and 
do his best. 

“ And I will do my best,” he said. “ Hurrah 
for Uncle Sam and the Flag of Freedom ! ” 


CHAPTER XXVL 


FIGHTING FOR THE FLAG OF FREEDOM. 

It is not my intention to tell all of what hap- 
pened in a military and naval way in and about 
Santiago during our war with Spain. A good 
portion of this has already been told in When 
Santiago Fell,” and “ A Sailor Boy with Dewey,” 
two previous volumes of this series. Suffice it to 
say that the war was now on in earnest. The 
Spanish warships under Admiral Cervera were 
“ bottled up ” in Santiago harbor by the Ameri- 
can warships under Rear Admiral Sampson, and 
the army of invasion intended to land as speedily 
as possible, to attack the City of Santiago from 
the east, or land side. 

The landing of the troops took some time, and 
as the water was rough and the landing places 
poor, many a soldier tumbled into the water. 
Inside of two days Paul found himself in camp 
with the other musicians composing the band. 
He had indeed caught the war fever and cried 
'' On to Santiago ! ” as loudly as the rest. 

General Shatter was pushing his men forward 
with all speed, and to cheer them up the band 

208 


FIGHTING FOR THE FLAG OF FREEDOM. 209 

played as frequently as possible. There was one 
air in particular, “ A Hot Time in the Old Town 
To-night,” which seemed to have just the right 
marching swing to it, and this the soldiers de- 
manded over and over again. 

We are in for it to-morrow, Graham,” said 
Oscar Blake, one of the cornet players, one even- 
ing. “ General Lawton is going to assault El 
Caney, while the rest of the army is to attack San 
Juan Hill. It will be a big fight.” 

“ Tm not afraid,” cried Paul. “ I must say I 
would just as lief shoulder a gun and go to the’ 
front.” 

You’re a plucky one,” laughed the leader of 
the band. Well, maybe you get some fighting 
before you are through.” 

The camp was astir at daybreak, and soon the 
band was on the march, playing as never before. 
The road was rough and marching was difficult, 
but nobody minded that. The one thought of all 
was to get at the Spaniards and whip them thor- 
oughly. 

Boom! boom! boom! From a distance came 
the dull sound of a battery opening in the vicinity 
of El Caney, and boom ! boom ! boom ! came the 
sound back from San Juan Hill and the Spanish 
intrenchments. Then followed a sharp rattle of 
musketry, and, looking to the left of the band, 
Paul saw several soldiers suddenly throw up their 


210 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


hands and fall to the ground, either dead or badly 
wounded. 

The sight made his heart jump. This was war 
at close quarters. There was no backing out 
now. He braced himself bravely and blew more 
loudly than ever on his cornet. 

“ Give ’em the ' Star-Spangled Banner ’ ! ” 
cried the band leader, and with a crash the glori- 
ous old tune burst forth and hundreds of soldiers 
took up the words, singing and shouting at the 
top of their lungs. Then came a mighty rush up 
a hill, and the band found itself almost deserted. 

“Can I go?” asked Paul, and the leader of 
the band nodded. A dead soldier was lying close 
at hand, and the youth quickly appropriated his 
gun and cartridge belt and made after the advanc- 
ing column. The bullets were whistling in all 
directions, but Paul did not seem to be conscious 
of them. 

“ Good for you ! ” shouted a young American 
lad as he came running up to Paul. “ I am with 
you ; come on ! ” And he went up the hill side 
by side with Paul. It was Mark Carter, who has 
told his own story of this fight in “ When San- 
tiago Fell,” as old readers of that book already 
know. 

“ We’ll need every gun we can get, I reckon,” 
panted Paul, and then, as a bullet grazed his ear 
he dodged and hurried forward faster than ever. 


FIGHTING FOR THE FLAG OF FREEDOM. 2li 

In another moment the young musician was in 
the very thickest of the fray. He saw a Spaniard 
in the act of bayoneting an American officer and 
promptly hit the fellow over the head with his 
gun, stretching him senseless. Then another of 
the enemy fired on him and he fired in return, 
wounding the Don in the hip. 

“ On, boys, on, and the hill will soon be ours ! ” 
was the rallying cry, and the soldiers went on, and 
then Paul found himself in a hand-to-hand strug- 
gle more blood-curdling than any of which he 
had ever dreamed. He fired his gun several 
times, and then felt a sharp pain in the side, and 
turning discovered a Spanish officer trying to run 
him through with a long sword. 

“ Don’t ! ” he screamed, but the Don smiled 
sarcastically and pushed him harder than ever. 
Paul was just on the point of giving up when 
there was the low whine of a passing cannon ball 
and lo! the Spaniard’s head fell from his shoul- 
ders and his body dropped where it had 
stood. 

This sight was so awful that for a minute Paul 
felt ready to faint. “ Rough, eh ? ” said an old 
regular standing near. “ But it saved your 
bacon, my boy.” 

“So — so it did,” faltered Paul. “ Gracious, I 
never thought war could be so bad ! ” 

On they went again, but now the Spaniards 


212 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


were getting the worst of it right along, and pres- 
ently they broke and ran. What a cheer went up 
from Uncle Sam’s boys ! 

We’ve got ’em on the run ! The hill is 
ours ! ” 

“ On to Santiago, lads ! Down with the 
Dons!” 

These and a hundred other cries rang out. 
Paul started to advance once more when suddenly 
he felt a strange pain in the leg, and looking down 
saw that the blood was streaming from his 
trowsers. He had been shot just below the 
knee. 

‘‘ I can’t go on ! ” he gasped, and fell down. In 
a twinkle two soldiers had caught him up and 
were carrying him to the rear. The wound, how- 
ever, was but a slight one, and as soon as it was 
properly bandaged the lad felt almost as well as 
ever. 

But El Caney and San Juan were ours, and now 
there was nothing to do for Paul but to join the 
band again and cheer up those who were wounded 
or worn out. The band played far into the night, 
and that night was one Paul never forgot. He 
had fought for his country, and victory had 
perched on the standard of the Red, White, and 
Blue. 

Early in the morning the attack on the Span- 
iards was renewed, and they were driven into the 


FIGHTING FOR THE FLAG OF FREEDOM. 213 

city itself. Then followed the defeat of Admiral 
Cervera on the water. This was a bitter blow to 
Spain, but more was to follow. The surrender 
of Santiago was demanded of General Toral, the 
military governor. At first he hesitated, but at 
last he gave in; and this campaign of our army 
became a thing of the past. 

As soon as it was definitely known that fight- 
ing, in this part of Cuba at least, was at an end, 
Paul asked to be taken to the United States on 
one of the war vessels which was about to leave 
for Key West. 

You can go, Graham,’’ said the leader of the 
military band. But I hate to lose you, I can 
tell you that.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Barding,” replied the youth. 
“ If you ever travel my way be sure and hunt 
the Golden Cornet Band up.” 

“ I certainly shall ! ” laughed the band leader. 

And I shall expect free tickets to the perform- 
ance, too,” he added lightly. 

The warship bound for Key West sailed the 
next morning with Paul as a passenger. The 
trip to Florida took less than three days. As 
soon as Key West was gained Paul telegraphed 
to Anderson Powell, Thompson, and to Calliwax 
that he was all right and would rejoin the travel- 
ing organization at the first opportunity. This 
was the first the others had heard from Paul since 


214 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


his disappearance, and it eased their minds 
greatly, for they had feared that the young band- 
master was dead. During Paul’s absence Powell 
had once more taken charge of the band. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 


BACK TO THE STATES AGAIN. 

“ Paul, what does this mean ? What did 
your enemies and the Spaniards do to you ? 

It was Anderson Powell who asked the ques- 
tion, as he wrung the lad’s hand warmly. He 
had been in a fever of anxiety since Paul’s disap- 
pearance, and the telegram had aroused his curi- 
osity to its highest pitch. 

“ I’ll tell you when the performance is over, 
to-night. Air. Powell,” answered the youth. 

It’s about time for the third number on the pro- 
gramme, isn’t it ? ” 

“ My gracious ! Do you want to go on ? You 
look rather pale.” 

“ I’m all right; try me and see,” said Paul con- 
fidently. 

And right he was, as the applause received that 
night testified. Never had he played with greater 
skill or sweetness. 

“ He is a marvel,” murmured the old band- 
master. ** Some day he will be world-renowned.” 

On the way to the boarding house Paul told his 
tale, to which not only Powell, but also Horatio 


215 


2i6 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


Calliwax, listened with keen interest. Both 
shook their heads in perplexity over Hooney's 
doings. 

‘‘ It doesn’t seem as if that tough would go 
to all the trouble he did just to get square with 
you,” said Calliwax. 

Perhaps he was paid by this Captain Scully 
for furnishing another ship’s hand,” suggested 
the bandmaster. 

“ I wish I could lay hands on Hooney, that’s 
all,” said Paul. '' I’ll give him a good thrashing 
first and have him arrested afterward.” 

Mr. Browler also listened to the tale with a 
grave look on his face. 

“We must find that scoundrel Hooney,” he 
said, but, although the police were notified and a 
strict search was made everywhere, Mike Hooney 
remained undiscovered. And this was not 
strange, for Hooney, thinking Paul effectually 
disposed of, had, after a jolly outing at Coney 
Island and Asbury Park, left New York to 
pay Stoneville and Hiram Dunkirk another 
visit. 

The two weeks in New York and several weeks 
in Brooklyn and other nearby cities had paid very 
well, while the puffs received in the various metro- 
politan papers made both Thompson and Ander- 
son Powell feel certain that an equally lucrative 
business would be done Down East. 


BACK TO THE STATES AGAIH. 217 

From New York State the company went to 
Portland and Boston, and then to Springfield, 
Massachusetts. Winter was now again at hand 
and it was very cold. 

“ Pm getting near home once more,” said Paul. 
“ For two pins I would take a train down into the 
neighborhood and see what Hiram Dunkirk is 
doing. I wonder if he has been keeping track of 
me?” 

Have you heard anything from that New 
York lawyer lately?” asked Calliwax. 

“ He sent me a letter last week. He is not well 
and has left the case to Fairfield, the Boston law- 
yer. Nothing new has turned up. I wish I 
would hear from Barrett Radley.” 

“ Well, it takes some time for a letter to go to 
Africa and for another to come back.” 

I suppose so. But if I had the time I would 
call on Hiram Dunkirk just for fun,” concluded 
the young bandmaster. 

Nothing more was said of the matter for sev- 
eral days. Then Thompson announced a lay-off 
until the following Monday. 

‘‘ I can’t make a good date anywhere,” he ex- 
plained, “ and I don’t know but that a few days’ 
rest will do all hands some good.” 

“ That settles it, then,” said Paul. '' I’m 
going to Stoneville to see how matters look.” 

“Want me to go along?” asked Calliwax. 


2i8 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


You may need a friend, in case Dunkirk tries 
any of his underhanded work.” 

“ I fancy I can take care of myself now,” smiled 
Paul. “ I’m not the poor boy I was once. I am 
rich, not only in money, but in friends as well. 
But come along, Calliwax, if you have nothing 
better to do.” 

So the two set out. A train for Tipton was 
soon found, and late in the afternoon Paul and 
Calliwax were treading the familiar highways of 
Stoneville. 

The youth met a number of people he knew, 
and these stared at him in an odd way. 

Thought you had run away fer good ! ” cried 
Joel Burgess, on catching sight of him. Reckon 
yer runnin’ away didn’t set well — although I 
allow ez how you’re wearin’ mighty fine clothes.” 

“ I am doing very well, thank you,” said Paul, 
hurrying on to avoid being questioned further. 
Stoneville was a sleepy place, and the news of the 
young bandmaster’s luck had not yet reached 
there. 

“ I wonder how he is really doin’ ? ” solilo- 
quized the cooper, scratching his head. “ Hang 
me ef I don’t think he’s rather smart, after all. 
Won’t Hiram be surprised when he walks in ! ” 
That’s the barrel maker Mr. Dunkirk was 
going to bind me out to,” explained Paul to his 
friend. “ If I had stayed I suppose I would be 


BACK TO THE STATES AGAIN. ^19 

earning two or three dollars per week making bar- 
rels by this time.” 

“ Instead of making barrels of money,” laughed 
Calliwax. “ Say, living in a town like this would 
grow moss all over me in a month. If I — what’s 
the matter? ” 

For Paul had clutched Calliwax by the arm and 
was drawing him back into the shelter of a near- 
by tree. 

“ Look ! look ! Don’t you see that man com- 
ing up the side road ? ” 

Yes; is it Dunkirk?” 

“ No, no ! it’s Mike Hooney, the fellow who 
robbed me and the one who had me shanghaied 
on board of the White Thrush.'' 

“ Is it possible ! What can he be doing 
here?” 

' That is what I want to know. There he 
goes, up the road to Hiram Dunkirk’s house. 
Can it be possible he is going there ? Let us fol- 
low him and find out.” 

And off they struck after the rascal, never 
dreaming of the important revelations so close at 
hand. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


HIRAM TURNS THE TABLES. 

“ He is bound for Dunkirk’s, sure ! ” cried Paul 
to Horatio Calliwax, as the shuffling form of 
Mike Hooney was seen to turn into the well- 
known lane. 

The snow lay thick upon the front piazza of the 
Dunkirk cottage, and Hooney had to go slow for 
fear of falling. A pounding on the door brought 
Margy Dunkirk to the scene. 

What ! you here again ! ” Paul heard her ex- 
claim. “ Didn’t Mr. Dunkirk tell you never to 
show your nose on the premises again ? ” 

‘‘ Never you mind, old lady,” ejaculated 
Hooney harshly. “ I’m out of cash, and I’m 
bound to have a few dollars or know the reason 
why.” 

'' You shan’t have a cent more out of my hus- 
band,” cried Mrs. Dunkirk. “ He has paid you 
more now than you deserve.” 

“ Hullo ! this is getting interesting,” whispered 
Paul to Calliwax, during the pause that followed. 
‘‘ Evidently Hooney has been here before.” 


220 


HIRAM TURNS THE TABLES. 


221 


Hiram Dunkirk now came forth from the 
house, a sour look on his evil-looking face. 

“ You get right out of here! he said sternly 
to Hooney. “ Get, before I turn the dog onto 
you.’’ 

“ I want ten dollars,” answered Hooney stub- 
bornly. 

Not a cent of money shall you have.” 

‘‘ Thet’s right, Hiram, don’t give him a penny,” 
put in Mrs. Dunkirk. 

'‘If you won’t let me have ten dollars, make it 
five,” went on Hooney, growing alarmed over 
the reception he was receiving. 

This was his fifth visit to the Dunkirk home- 
stead. 

Of his first two visits the reader already knows. 
The third and fourth trips had been for additional 
cash, and in his fright Hiram Dunkirk had 
handed over first, fifty dollars, and then twenty- 
five. 

When he had given the latter amount Mike 
Hooney had solemnly sworn to bother him no 
more. And that was less than two weeks 
past. 

" I’ve been in bad luck,” whined Hooney. " I 
slipped and twisted my ankle. Give me five dol- 
lars and I’ll beat my way somehow to New York, 
and you won’t see nuthin’ of me ag’in.” 

Hiram Dunkirk shook his head. 


222 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ I have nothing for a tramp like you, so walk 
along/’ 

He tried to close the front door, but Hooney 
put out his foot and held it back. 

“ You won’t give me even a five? ” 

No.” 

If yer don’t, yer know the consequences,” and 
the rascal’s eyes snapped, for defeat did not set 
well with him. 

“ You can do as you please,” returned Hiram 
Dunkirk. If you go to law. I’ll swear I never 
saw you before, and that you are trying to black- 
mail me. Now go. Margy, call the dog.” 

“ Blackmail you ! ” howled Hooney. For the 
moment he was staggered. “You’re a nice one 
ter talk of dat, you are ! Say, if yer won’t hand 
over de money, let me whisper somethin’ in yer 
ear.” 

“ I want to hear nothing more out of you.” 

“ I want ter tell yer somet’in about dat boy.” 

“ I won’t listen. Git, or I’ll put the dog onto 
you.” 

“ Dat boy aint dead ! ” burst out Hooney wick- 
edly. “ He’s as alive an’ well as you or me. 
How do yer like dat news? ” 

“ I knew it long ago,” was Hiram Dunkirk’s 
quiet answer. 

Mike Hooney staggered back, and his lower 
jaw dropped. 


HIRAM TURNS THE TABLES. 223 

Yer did? ” he gasped. 

Yes. Now clear out. If you ever come near 
me again, Fll have you locked up for a tramp and 
a thief.” 

“ But you ” 

Mike Hooney was not allowed to finish. 
Margy Dunkirk had gone for her favorite 
weapon, a broom. Now she rushed forward, and 
thrust the whisps directly into the rascal’s dirty 
face. He staggered back, slipped in the snow 
and rolled off the piazza, down the steps and into 
the dooryard. Before he could recover the door 
was shut and bolted from the inside. 

Paul had listened to the foregoing conversation 
with a lively interest. It was clear that Hooney 
and Dunkirk had something in common. He 
looked at Calliwax. 

“ What do you think of this? ” 

“ Follow the fellow and stop him as soon as he 
is out of sight of the house,” said Horatio Calli- 
wax. 

Muttering imprecations not fit to print, Mike 
Hooney arose slowly to his feet. Then, after 
shaking his fist at the dwelling, he turned and 
shuffied off in the direction from which he had 
come. 

Paul and Calliwax had been hiding behind an 
evergreen hedge. Along this they followed 
Hooney until a turn in the road was gained, 


224 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

Then both sprang into the open and confronted 
the rascal. 

Hooney, stop ! I want to talk to you,” com- 
manded Paul, and caught the tough by the arm. 

“ You ! ” murmured the rascal under his breath. 
For the moment he was too surprised to say 
more. 

What are you doing up here, Hooney? ” went 
on Paul. 

“ Me ? ” stammered the tough. 

“ Yes, you.” 

Nuthin\” 

“Don’t lie to me. You just called on Hiram 
Dunkirk. What for ? ” 

“ Aint been a-a-callin’ on nobody. Let me 
go ! ” and Hooney tried to pass on. 

But Paul held him fast. 

“ Not so slick, you rascal. Do you imagine I 
have forgotten how you had me shanghaied on 
board of the White Thrushf Not much!” 

“ I don’t know yer — so dare. Lemme go ! ” 

“ All right, come on,” replied Paul coolly. 
“ Calliwax, will you take his other arm? ” 

“ Wot — wot yer goin’ ter do wid me? ” 

“ Have you arrested.” 

“ Yer can’t prove a t’ing against me? ” 

“ Perhaps I can.” 

“ Yer can’t— not a t’ing.” 

“ Perhaps you don’t know how I managed to 


HIRAM TURNS THE TABLES. 225 

leave the schooner and what has become of Cap- 
tain Scully ? ” said Paul suggestively. 

As he had calculated, this had its proper effect 
upon the tough, who turned suddenly pale. 

“ Is de — de cap’n in jail? ’’ he gasped. 

“ Never mind that now. I want you to answer 
my question.’’ 

It wasn’t me dat had yer takin’ on de boat,” 
burst out Hooney. “ Dat was dis Hiram Dun- 
kirk’s work.” 

Dunkirk!” 

“ Exactly. He was workin’ ter git rid of yer. 
Say, if yer won’t do nuthin’ ag’in me. I’ll show up 
de hull push, see? ” 

I’ll see about it, Hooney. Now tell me your 
story.” 

A long conversation followed, and then, in the 
shelter of a cluster of pine trees, the tough made 
a complete confession, telling how he had found 
the letter addressed to Barrett Radley, and how 
he had brought it to Hiram Dunkirk, and been 
hired to get our hero out of the way for 
good. 

'' Dat man is cheatin’ yer out of a lot o’ prop- 
erty,” concluded Hooney. Yer want ter jump 
on him, dat’s wot ! ” 

Now, that he had confessed, and knowing he 
could expect nothing more from Dunkirk, 
Hooney was anxious to help Paul all he could, 


226 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


not only to save himself, but also in hopes 
of a possible reward. 

To the young bandmaster the idea of aid from 
this tough was decidedly repulsive, but Calliwax 
saw the advantages of keeping Hooney on their 
side of the game, at least for the present, and 
winked to Paul to that effect. 

“ All right, Hooney; you help us now, and we’ll 
talk about your position in this affair later,” said 
Paul. 

Not far away lived an old man who had always 
been more or less friendly to Paul, and thither the 
three made their way; shelter was obtained for 
Calliwax and the tough, while Paul set out once 
more for Pliram Dunkirk’s farm. 

The distance was quickly covered, and, ascend- 
ing the piazza, Paul knocked loudly on the door. 
His heart beat quickly as he waited. 

At last came a voice from within. 

Who is there ? ” It was Hiram Dunkirk, 
and he was afraid Hooney had returned. 

“ It is I — Paul Graham.” 

Paul ! ” burst from Dunkirk’s lips, and a 
rattling of the lock followed. Then the door was 
opened, and the young bandmaster stepped into 
the well-known hallway. 

“ So you thought you would come back at last, 
eh? ” remarked Dunkirk sourly. “ You’ve taken 
your time about it, ’pears to me,” 


HIRAM TURNS THE TABLES. 227 

Yes, I have taken my time about it.” 

Come into the sitting room — I’m not going 
to freeze to death talking to you out in this cold 
hall.” 

The pair were soon in the apartment men- 
tioned. Here a little blaze of wood had been 
started in the old sheet-iron stove, and it was con- 
sequently warmer. 

“ I reckon you’ve come back to stay,” went on 
Hiram Dunkirk, after an awkward pause. 

“ Hardly, Mr. Dunkirk; I came back to get a 
settlement out of you.” 

“ A settlement? ” 

Exactly.” 

“ I can’t say as I understand you.” 

I will make myself clear, Mr. Dunkirk. 
Beating about the bush will only waste valuable 
time. In the first place, I know what you did to 
get me out of the way.” Hiram Dunkirk winced. 
“ In the second place, I know your intentions in 
regard to my father’s estate ; in the third place, I 
demand that you transfer your guardianship to 
somebody else and hand over every cent that is 
coming to me. And if you don’t accept my 
proposition, before I’m done with you I’ll land 
you in jail.” 


CHAPTER XXIX. 


IN WHICH AFFAIRS GET MIXED. 

An intense silence followed Paul’s words. 

The young bandmaster had expected his guard- 
ian to flare up, knowing his excitable nature, but 
for once he was mistaken. 

Hiram Dunkirk realized the desperate game 
he was playing, and he was resolved to keep cool 
and play as he had never played before. 

“ Paul, you talk big, but your words don’t 
amount to shucks,” he said at last, dropping into 
a chair by the stove. 

“ Which means that you won’t pay any atten- 
tion to my demands.” 

“ That’s what, boy.” 

“ Then I shall go ahead as I see fit — and you’ll 
go to jail.” 

Let us look at it another way, boy. In the 
first place, you ran away from home — ran away 
from your lawfully appointed guardian.” 

I had good reason to do that.” 

“ In the second place, you stole four hundred 
and fifty dollars from that desk in the corner.” 

That is not true — and you know it,” 


IN WHICH AFFAIRS GET MIXED. 229 

I know it is true. Abigail Darrow will help 
me prove it.” 

‘‘ What — that old woman, whom I saved from 
the tramps ! ” burst from Paul’s lips. ‘‘ She 
knows the tramps had the money.” 

She knows nothing of the kind. I have 
talked with her several times — told her just what 
you were — and now she is certain my pocketbook 
dropped from your pocket during the fight that 
took place in her kitchen.” 

''If she is, it is only because you have either 
talked her into it or you have bought her up,” an- 
swered the young bandmaster bitterly. 

Hiram Dunkirk turned slightly pale and cleared 
his throat before proceeding. 

" I shan’t notice your slurs — just now,” he con- 
tinued. " In the third place, you have got hold 
of money somehow — didn’t git it by hard 
work, ril vow — and you sent a feller over to the 
county courthouse to look up your father’s Will, 
and so on, and even had the feller spirit old Eliza 
Dunwell away, although I allow I don’t know 
why on earth that was done.” 

There was a pause. 

" And you hired Mike Hooney to have me 
taken on board of a vessel bound for Rio de Ja- 
neiro, in the hope that I would never come back — 
in fact, it was understood I was never to come 
back,” retorted Paul. 


230 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


‘^Another straight, out-and-out lie, boy. In- 
stead of my hirin’ this Hooney, you hired him 
to git up this story, and he’s been here more’n 
a dozen times pesterin’ me for money, an’ threat- 
enin’ me if I didn’t give it to him.” Hiram Dun- 
kirk leaped to his feet. “ Paul, you may think 
yourself smart, but you can’t get the best o’ Hi- 
ram Dunkirk, understand that. I know jest what 
I am a-doin’, and you have got to knuckle under, 
or take the consequences.” 

Hiram Dunkirk’s words concerning Hooney 
were bewildering. Paul, though, soon caught 
the drift of his guardian’s argument. Dunkirk 
meant to deny everything, and, if hard pushed, 
would undertake to prove him a bad boy and a 
thief. 

“ Hiram knows jest how slick you be, Paul 
Graham,” put in Mrs. Dunkirk, as she entered. 
“ But you can’t pull the wool over Hiram’s eyes 
not so long as I’m here to advise him.” 

“ Margy, you leave the boy to me — I’ll manage 
him,” growled the husband, who did not relish 
this interference. 

“ Then I understand that you are not willing 
to come to terms ? ” said the young bandmaster 
coldly. 

It depends on what you mean by cornin’ to 
terms. If you want a change of guardian, I 
don’t know but what Pm willing — if ye can find 


IN WHICH AFFAIRS GET MIXED. 231 

anybody foolish enough to take care of you until 
you are twenty-one.” 

“ He’ll have his hands full,” grunted Margy, 
with a sour look at the young bandmaster. 
“ Dreadfully tricked out, aint ye? ” The last in 
reference to Paul’s fine clothing. 

“ I want not only a change of guardian, but I 
want a full and clear settlement of my father’s 
estate.” 

That’s easily made. The quarry matters is 
all settled now, and there’s an even three hundred 
and forty dollars in the bank a-comin’ to you.” 

“ Three hundred and forty dollars ! ” 

“ Exactly. It’s more’n you deserve, but what’s 
cornin’ to you is cornin’ to you, an’ that’s all there 
is to it.” 

“ Do you imagine for one minute that I will be 
satisfied with any such accounting as that? ” burst 
out the young bandmaster. “ Why, it isn’t a 
tenth part of what my father’s estate was worth. 
You shan’t swindle me like that.” 

Hiram Dunkirk shrugged his shoulders. 

Aint no use fer either of us to fly up, boy. If 
you want a change, well and good. If you 
don’t ” 

If I don’t ” 

You can go off and take care of yourself, or 
you can come back and go to work for Joel Bur- 
gess as I wanted ye to.” 


^3^ the young bandmaster. 

At the latter words the young bandmaster 
could i;iot help but smile. Go to work for the 
cooper after all that had happened since leaving 
Stoneville ! 

“ Mr. Dunkirk, what do you think IVe been 
doing since I left you?” he asked. 

‘‘ I don’t think, I know. You’ve been travel- 
ing around with a theater band — a good-fer- 
nuthin’ set, I dare say.” 

“ I’ve been traveling around with one of the 
best bands in the country, and I’ve fought in 
Cuba, too. At first I was only a cornetist. Now 
I am a soloist and also a bandmaster. Have you 
any idea how much I earn per week ? ” 

“ Eight or ten dollars, I suppose — when you 
git it. I’ve heard tell theater folks don’t pay up 
very promptly.” 

“ I earn sixty dollars a week, and I get paid 
every Saturday night as regularly as clockwork.” 

What ! ” Hiram Dunkirk’s eyes opened like 
two saucers and he thought he had not heard 
aright. As for Mrs. Dunkirk, she was nearly 
overcome. 

“ Sixty dollars a week ! ” cried both in chorus. 

“ Yes.” 

“It aint so — nobody is a-earnin’ that now- 
adays,” continued Hiram Dunkirk. 

“ You jest said thet to put on airs, Paul Gra- 


IN WHICH AFFAIRS GET MIXED. 


ham,” said Mrs. Dunkirk. Sixty dollars ! 
More’n likely it’s sixty cents ! ” 

“ You have not got to believe it if you don’t 
want to.” 

But what would they pay that for? ” 

For my playing and for the work I do in 
managing the band. As a soloist I am considered 
a star performer.” 

Well, I never thought you could play much 
on that horn,” sniffed Margy. 

Then it is fortunate for me that the general 
public and you are of different opinions.” 

‘‘ Don’t ye put on airs, Paul Graham ! ” 

I’m not putting on airs — I am simply stating 
the truth.” 

“ Then you aint wantin’ to come back here? ” 
said Hiram Dunkirk faintly. 

“ Not much.” 

“Very well; you can suit yourself. But see 
here, Paul.” A crafty look came into Dunkirk’s 
fishy eyes. “ Seein’ as how you are doin’ so well, 
why don’t you let this guardianship matter drop ? 
I won’t bother you, and the money can stay in the 
bank at interest until you are old enough to draw 
it out.” 

“ That plan would suit me firstrate, Mr. Dun- 
kirk, if everything was on the level. But it is 
not. You are cheating me out of thousands and 


234 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


I am bound to have my rights. If you won’t give 
them to me I’ll go to law.” 

'' Go to law; and I’ll land ye in jail for stealin’ 
that four hundred and fifty dollars.” 

I’ll risk it.” 

“ And you’ll never git a cent more’n that three 
hundred and forty dollars out of me — not if you 
get the best lawyer in the country to try the case. 
I’ve looked into the matter closely, and I know 
just where I stand. If you want to try it, go 
ahead and do your worst, and see where you come 
out. And as for that Hooney, I’ve looked up his 
record in Boston, and if he dares to show him- 
self on the witness stand he’ll go to prison for 
certain.” 


CHAPTER XXX. 


A MESSAGE FROM AFRICA. 

Ten minutes later, Paul had left the house and 
was on his way to the cottage where Calliwax and 
Hooney awaited him. 

His visit to his guardian had profited him noth- 
ing. Dunkirk had defied him to do his worst, 
and in addition had threatened to have him prose- 
cuted for the theft of the four hundred and fifty 
dollars. 

“ One thing is certain,” said the young band- 
master, as he took Horatio Calliwax aside and 
gave him the details. “ Hiram Dunkirk has 
managed to cover up his evil doings thoroughly; 
otherwise he would never defy me as he has.” 

I think it wouldn’t be a bad plan to interview 
that lawyer friend of Horace Browler. Let me 
see, what was his name ? ” 

“ Clinton Fairfield. Yes, I was thinking of 
that myself. But the trouble is, what is to be 
done with Hooney? ” 

This question was a sticker, but Calliwax 
quickly solved it. 

We’ll take him along. He can take his 


235 


236 the young bandmaster, 

choice of going willingly or being sent to jail. 
Here is a pawn ticket for your diamond scarf-pin ; 
Hooney gave it to me.” 

The tough was told of their plan. At first he 
demurred about going, but soon agreed, when the 
jail was mentioned. 

“ Don’t have me locked up an’ I’ll do anything 
fer you,” he pleaded. 

The run to Boston on the train did not take 
long. Clinton Fairfield was found in his office 
on Washington Street. Paul asked to see him in 
private, and quickly introduced himself, while 
Calliwax kept charge of Hooney in an outer 
office. 

“ I am sorry to state, Mr. Graham, that my 
search was a good deal of a disappointment,” 
were Clinton Fairfield’s words. “ Your father 
left a most peculiar will, drawn up, I believe, by 
Hiram Dunkirk, and signed at a time when your 
father was hardly conscious of what he was 
doing. This latter statement comes from the 
old nurse, Eliza Dunwell.” 

And you have found nothing wrong in my 
guardian’s acounts ? ” 

Speaking by the letter of the law, I have 
found nothing. But there are a number of trans- 
actions concerning the quarry company’s afYairs 
I cannot understand. For an explanation of 
these, both Mr. Browler and myself are awaiting 


A MESSAGE FROM AFRICA. 237 

a letter from Barrett Radley of Cape Town, 
Africa/’ 

“ If only he would write,” sighed Paul. Per- 
haps he will be able to clear up everything.” 

“ He will — at least I hope so.” 

‘‘ Where is Eliza Dunwell now ? ” 

She liked it so well here that I kept her — 
giving her a situation with my mother, who is 
somewhat of an invalid. She may be useful to 
us later on.” 

More talk about the case followed, and Paul 
related the particulars of his visit to Hiram Dun- 
kirk. 

“ He is a shrewd fellow,” said Clinton Fair- 
field. “We must be very thorough in what we 
do, or we will accomplish nothing. I dare say he 
has taken legal advice as to how he stands.” 

“ I am willing to wait a while longer in hopes 
of hearing from Barrett Radley,” said Paul. 
“ But what to do with this Hooney in the mean- 
time I don’t know.” 

“ You want to keep track of him? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ It can easily be done by hiring a detective to 
do the work.” 

“ How much will that cost ? ” 

“ It will not be hard work. I can get a good 
man for twenty-five dollars per week and ex- 
penses.” 


23 ^ the young bandmaster. 

'' That will be all right. How soon can you 
get him ? ’’ 

At once.” 

“ Very well.” 

There was a telephone handy and Clinton Fair- 
field proceeded to use it. When he had finished 
he turned again to the young bandmaster. 

“ A man will be here inside of half an hour. 
Your friend had better take Hooney for a short 
walk.” 

Paul understood, and soon Calliwax and 
Hooney left, the latter wondering what was up, 
but asking no questions. 

In exactly twenty minutes a stranger calling 
himself Ernest Rand entered Clinton Fairfield’s 
office. 

He speedily introduced himself as a detective, 
and Paul gave him the particulars of what was 
desired. 

Rand had done this sort of work before, and 
before he left the office he donned a disguise — that 
of a typical sport. 

'' Before night I’ll be on the best of terms with 
Hooney,” he said. ‘‘ And if he’s broke he’ll stick 
to me like glue so long as I am willing to put up 
a little money now and then for him.” 

“ If he comes around, you can pump him about 
Hiram Dunkirk,” said Paul. “ But don’t expose 
yourself.” 


A MESSAGE FROM AFRICA. 239 

To expose myself is not my business/’ said 
Rand coolly. 

The young bandmaster soon left, and Rand 
followed him at a safe distance. 

It had been arranged that Paul should join 
Calliwax and then the pair would leave Hooney 
to shift for himself, after which Rand was to pick 
up an acquaintanceship with the tough in his own 
peculiar way. 

But at the entrance to the office building Paul 
met Calliwax in a state of great excitement. 

‘‘ He slipped me ! ” were the impersonator’s 
words. “ Got away on a street car while there 
was a jam of people on the corner.” 

“ Pshaw ! ” Paul’s face fell. “ Then we’ve 
got no use for the detective.” 

He called to Rand and matters were quickly 
explained. 

“ Describe him and I’ll see if I can’t run him 
down,” said the detective. 

The description was quickly forthcoming and 
Calliwax pointed out the direction Hooney had 
taken. In less than five minutes Rand was on 
the trail and out of sight. 

Paul drew a long breath. 

“ Everything seems to be going wrong,” he 
sighed. '' I thought I would corner Hiram Dun- 
kirk, and I haven’t cornered him at all — instead, 
he defies me.” 


240 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ Never mind, it will all come out right in the 
end,’' replied Calliwax. “ But I was a chump to 
let Hooney slip me,” he added. “ A fat lady ran 
into me and before I could recover and release 
myself from her embrace he was gone.” 

As there was nothing else to do for the present, 
they returned to Springfield. Here they found 
Thompson running around in a half-wild state. 

By Jove ! but I’m glad you turned up ! ” cried 
the general manager. I’ve got a chance for a 
good opening at Providence to-morrow night, 
and I didn’t know whether to take it or not, not 
knowing if either of you would turn up.” 

“ Well, here we are, and you can accept, for I 
can do nothing else just now,” replied Paul. 

The company moved to Providence that night 
and a rehearsal was had in the morning. On ac- 
count of the short time for preparation, the city 
was billed heavily, and large advertisements were 
put into all of the papers. 

One new bill made Paul blush when he saw it 
It was a life-like representation of himself, with 
his golden cornet in his hand. 

‘‘ Gracious me, Thompson I What made you 
get that? ” he asked. 

“ It’s a good advertisement, Paul.” 

‘‘ But look what it says : ‘Paul Graham, Lead- 
ing Boy Cornetist of the World ! ’ ” 

“ The bill tells the truth.” 


A MESSAGE FROM AFRICA. ^4^ 

Nonsense! '' 

‘‘ Thompson is right/’ put in Calliwax. 

Paul, you are getting famous.” 

I fancy Hiram Dunkirk don’t think so.” 

“ If I were you I wouldn’t bother my head 
about him any more,” said the general manager. 

“ But I shall. He is cheating me and has tried 
to make me out a thief. I’ll never rest until I’ve 
shown him up for the rascal he is.” 

The theater was crowded and the performance 
went off with great success. But after it was 
over Paul called Calliwax aside. 

“ Calliwax, did you notice him ? ” he asked. 

'' Who, the crazy-looking fellow in the left- 
hand box ? ” 

Yes.” 

'' Of course I did. Why, he looked at me in a 
way that made my blood run cold.” 

‘‘ He kept his eyes on me all the while I was 
playing and seemed to look me through and 
through.” Paul gave a shiver. I hope he 
doesn’t turn up again. He’s enough to give one 
the nightmare.” 

At ten o’clock Calliwax and Paul went down to 
the post-office to see if there was any mail. 

A foreign-looking letter at once attracted the 
young bandmaster’s attention. It had traveled 
from Cape Town to New York, then to Spring- 
field, and from there to Providence. 


242 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ The letter from Barrett Radley at last ! he 
cried, and tore it open. The communication was 
very brief : 

Yours received regarding Hiram Dunkirk 
and your father’s estate. Yes, I know all about 
the transaction, for I was also interested in the 
Stoneville Quarry Company. I write this in 
great haste, as the mail steamer is about to leave. 
I sail for New York next week, and you can ad- 
dress me again in care of the Astor House of that 
city. Will do what I can for the son of my old 
friend as soon as I get settled. 

“ Barrett Radley.^^ 

‘‘ He is coming back to the United States,” 
murmured Paul. Perhaps he is back already. 
I will write to the New York address without 
delay.” 

And he posted a letter inside of the next hour. 

Paul had put up at once at one of the leading 
hotels, and directly before dinner he found him- 
self alone in his room, sorting over some new 
music which had been sent to him by Anderson 
Powell. Presently the bell-boy announced a 
visitor. 

Mr. Carlo de Wombro.” 

“ Humph, I don’t know him,” said Paul, 

Show him up,” and went on with his work. 


A MESSAGE FROM AFRICA. 243 

In a minute more a tall man entered the room, 
closing the door softly after him. The man held 
a large roll in his hand. Paul looked up and was 
dismayed to see it was the wild-faced individual 
who had occupied the box at the theater the even- 
ing before. 

“ This is Signor Paul Graham, I believe,” said 
the man with a low bow.” 

“ I am Paul Graham,” answered the young 
bandmaster. 

“ Delighted to see you, sir — a great honor to 
me, I assure you. I presume you have been 
looking for me,” went on the newcomer 
earnestly. 

“ No, I have not.” 

Indeed ? That is queer. I wrote you six 
notes; yes, six. I have composed a new opera in 
sixteen acts, sixteen scenes to each act. In one 
part the orchestration calls for one hundred cor- 
nets in unison; magnificent, eh? I want you to 
play the cornet part for me.” 

Paul gazed at the man in horror. The fellow 
was insane, beyond a doubt. What was to be 
done ? He shivered in spite of himself. 

‘‘ I can’t play for you to-day. Come to- 
morrow,” he said quietly. 

At this the madman glared at him. I’ll not 
come to-morrow. You must play for me to- 
day.” He ran and locked the door and then 


244 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


drew a long knife. “ Play for me at once, or Pll 
kill yoit ! ” he hissed. “ Play ! play ! play ! I say ! ” 
And he flourished the knife in the young band- 
master’s face! 


/ 


CHAPTER XXXL 


A WELCOME ARRIVAL. 

Paul Graham now found himself in a decid- 
edly perilous situation. 

That this madman before him was highly dan- 
gerous there could not be the slightest doubt. 
There was that in the glare of his eyes which was 
sufficient to make the blood of anyone run cold. 

As the fellow flourished his knife Paul tried to 
back away, until he found himself cornered. 

Stop, put down that knife, and I will play for 
you,’’ said the young bandmaster at last. 

At once the face of the madman softened. 

“ That is better. Signor Graham,” he said, low- 
ering the blade slightly. “You will play the 
cornet part in my opera for me ? ” 

“ Yes— if I can.” 

“ Oh, you can do anything — I know it. The 
part is very easy — goes like this — lum-tum, la, 
la, dum ! Here you are.” 

He thrust the roll he had brought with him at 
Paul. The young bandmaster took and opened 
it. It contained a number of sheets of music 
paper scrawled over with notes which no more re- 
sembled a tune than do the tracks of a hen. 

845 


346 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

Fine, aint it? queried the madman. 

“ Very good,'’ replied Paul slowly, wondering 
what he should do next. Then a bright idea 
struck him. “ Let us go to the theater and try 
the opera.” 

“ What, and have the other musicians steal my 
ideas ! ” howled the maniac. '' Not much ! You 
play that cornet part here.” 

“ But the hotel folks may object. They don’t 
usually allow cornet playing here.” 

They’ll have to make an exception in your 
case. Go on, for after you have played the part 
I must catch the train for New York to arrange 
for having my opera produced at the Metropoli- 
tan Opera House. It will cost a billion dollars to 
produce it ; think of that ! ” 

And the madman danced around wildly. 

Seeing there was no help for it, Paul produced 
his cornet and set the music sheets up before him. 
Then another idea came to him. Perhaps a 
gentle lullaby might soothe the lunatic and cause 
him to depart in peace. 

With the perspiration standing out on his fore- 
head he began to play a sweet old German 
lullaby, with all the mellowness and tenderness at 
his command. The madman looked on curiously, 
his eyes softened, and something like a tear stole 
down his cheek. 

But suddenly the fellow’s manner changed, and 


A WELCOME ARRIVAL. 


247 


he brandished his knife once more, this time so 
close that he scratched Paul’s chin. 

That is not right! You are fooling me and 
playing something of your own! Beware, or I 
will kill you ! ” 

Again Paul was chilled to the heart. His 
effort to soothe the man had failed. What should 
he do next ? If he could only get to the door and 
summon help ! 

Again his wits came to his aid. 

‘‘ The part is very difficult. You try it,” he 
said, and handed out his cornet. 

The madman hesitated, then took the cornet 
and placed it to his lips with one hand while still 
holding the knife in the other. He gave a wild 
blast, and as he did so Paul leaped for the door. 
The key was still in the lock, but as his hand 
touched it it fell to the floor. 

Come back ! ” roared the madman, and drop- 
ping the cornet, he rushed upon Paul. The knife 
glittered in the air, but ere it could descend Paul 
had placed a center table between the fellow 
and himself. Then he caught up the iron rod 
of a folding music stand and waved it warn- 
ingly. 

Come near me and I’ll crack your head open,” 
he said, and yelled for help. 

The madman did not heed his warning, but 
rushed upon him. Then Paul used the iron rod 


248 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

with all his force, and, struck on the head, the 
madman fell like a log. 

It took the youth less than five seconds to reach 
the door again. He inserted the key in the lock, 
turned it, and flung the barrier open, to find him- 
self face to face with — Barrett Radley! 

“ Hullo, Paul Graham I What does this 
mean? ” demanded the man from Africa. 

“Mr. Radley !” burst from the young bandmas- 
ter’s lips. “ Quick I help me I That man on the 
floor is a maniac! He just tried to kill me! ” 

“ Heavens ! you don’t mean it ! ” Barrett Rad- 
ley strode forward. “ Poor chap, he is frothing 
at the mouth. I’ll watch him. You go and tell 
the hotel people.” 

But this was unnecessary, for the commotion 
had already brought a score of people to the spot, 
among whom was the manager of the house. 

By Paul’s advice the madman was securely 
bound. When he came to his senses he raved in- 
cessantly, and in this condition he was carried off 
by the police. 

Later on it was found that he belonged to one 
of the foremost of Providence families. When 
a boy he had gone crazy over music and theatri- 
cals, and the mania had clung to him ever since. 
He had escaped from a private asylum three days 
before, and his keepers had been hunting every- 
where for him. The family were exceedingly 


A WELCOME ARRIVAL. 


249 


sorry for what had occurred, and offered Paul a 
handsome sum of money for what he had suf- 
fered, but this he declined. 

“ IPs not his fault, poor man,’’ he said. “ All 
I want you to do in the future is to see that he 
doesn’t break loose again,” and this promise was 
readily given. 

Barrett Radley had been on his way from New 
York to Boston. Paul’s letter to the Astor 
House had caught him just as he was about to 
leave the metropolis, and he had decided then to 
stop off at Providence and see the son of his for- 
mer friend. 

A conversation lasting all of an hour took place 
between the man from Africa and the young 
bandmaster, and during that time many facts con- 
cerning Paul’s inheritance were brought to light 
and cleared up. Then Paul sought out Thomp- 
son. 

“ I would like to get away for a few days,” he 
said. 

Thompson’s face fell, but when the young 
bandmaster explained the case he readily agreed 
to let Paul go, and a telegram was sent to Ander- 
son Powell, asking him to come on and take 
charge for the time. As Powell had previously 
agreed to do this whenever the emergency arose, 
the matter was quickly settled. 

The ride to the Hub was uneventful, and half 


25 © the young bandmaster. 

an hour later found Paul and Barrett Radley 
closeted with Clinton Fairfield in his office. 

‘‘ I would like to see Maurice Graham’s will,” 
said Radley. It seems to me it is of very 
peculiar construction.” 

“ The will is in the surrogate’s office at Tip- 
ton,” answered Fairfield. “ We can easily look 
at it.” 

“ I remember the document well,” went on Bar- 
rett Radley. “ We spilled a lot of ink on the first 
page in signing. I was for writing the will over, 
but Mr. Graham said it would not matter.” 

Some ink blots ? ” queried Clinton Fairfield. 

Why, the will I saw was as clean as it could 
be.” 

“ Then it wasn’t the will I know of,” returned 
Barrett Radley promptly. “ Why, the other wit- 
ness to that will, an old woman, must remember 
the ink stains, for some of the ink got on her best 
dress, and she was very much cut up over it.” 

“ Eliza Dunwell w^as the other witness — an old 
colored, woman.” 

“ Exactly.” 

Suppose we question her about this,” put in 
Paul with deep interest. 

We certainly must,” said the lawyer de- 
cidedly. 

A few minutes later all were on their way to 
Clinton Fairfield’s home. 


A WELCOME ARRIVAL, 


251 


Eliza Dunwell was found in attendance upon 
the lawyer’s mother. 

She remembered Paul well, and also remem- 
bered Barrett Radley. 

‘‘ I want to speak to you about the will Mr. 
Graham made,” said Clinton Fairfield, drawing 
her aside. “ Do you remember the circumstances 
under which you witnessed it ! ” 

** ’Deed I does, Mistah Fairfield,” she an- 
swered. 

“ Kindly tell us all about it. I mean, just what 
took place when you witnessed it.” 

“ Well, sir, in de fust place, Mistah Graham — 
Paul dere is de dead image of him — was a-layin’ 
on de bed in de front room upstairs, an’ Mr. Rad- 
ley dere an’ Hiram Dunkirk and his wife Margy 
was around him.” 

“ Yes, go on.” 

“ Mr. Dunkirk had de will all ready ter sign, 
an’ he gives de pen ter Mr. Graham. Mr. Gra- 
ham he asks, ‘ Is it all right, Hiram ? ’ an’ Hiram 
says, ‘ Yes, jest as you wants it.’ Didn’t he, Mr. 
Radley ? ” 

Barrett Radley bowed. 

‘‘ Den Mr. Graham he ups an’ signs de paper, 
and Hiram Dunkirk says to Mr. Radley an’ my- 
self, ‘ Will youse witness dis ? ’ Den he hands 
de pen ter me, an’ at de same time Mr. Radley 
steps forward. Hiram Dunkirk was a-holdin’ 


252 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 

de ink bottle, an’ de fust t’ing youse know it tipped 
over an’ my best Sunday go-ter-meetin’ dress was 
spiled. I made Hiram Dunkirk buy me a new 
one fer it. You remember dat, Mr. Radley? ” 

‘‘ Didn’t the ink get on anything else? ” asked 
the lawyer. 

“ Why, yes, it got all over de counterpane of de 
bed, and half a dozen splashes went over de fust 
page of de will, and ” 

‘‘ What did they do about the will ? ” put in 
Paul quickly. 

“ Jest dried it off de best dey could. Some- 
body wanted ter write de will over, but dey didn’t 
do it.” 

“ Would you remember the will you witnessed 
if you saw it? ” questioned Clinton Fairfield. 

“ Sure. De blotches was on de paper in a 
straight streak from one corner across to de 
udder.” 

That is all.” The lawyer turned to Paul. 
“ Do you know what I feel sure of ? I feel sure 
that the will that was offered for probate was not 
the real one, but a forgery ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXII. 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS DUMFOUNDED. 

A FORGERY ! ’’ cried Paul. 

He had begun to imagine as much, yet the 
plain declaration of Clinton Fairfield took away 
his breath. 

“Yes, a forgery.” 

“ I believe Hiram Dunkirk mean enough for 
such a piece of business,” put in Barrett Radley. 

“ Yes, he was not only mean enough for this, 
but he was crafty enough to make the forgery 
somewhat like the original so that the truth might 
not be suspected.” 

“ But he wasn’t thoughtful enough to put in the 
ink spots,” added Paul with a strange little laugh. 
“ It looks now as if things were surely coming 
my way.” 

“ The greatest villains in the world often over- 
reach themselves,” was the lawyer’s comment. 

“ Perhaps the spots were removed afterward,” 
burst out the young bandmaster, struck by a sud- 
den thought. 

“ They could not be removed unless part of the 
writing was blurred. And I remember distinctly 


*53 


254 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


that the sheet was as clear as could be. However, 
we had best look at the will again.’’ 

The matter was talked over, and it was decided 
to take the first train for Tipton. 

By the way,” asked Paul, have you heard 
anything of that detective ? ” 

“ Who, Rand ? Oh, yes, he found Hooney 
with ease, and is sticking to him as closely as a 
leech.” 

“ Perhaps you had best get the pair to go to 
Tipton, on some pretext, you know.” 

“ A good idea — I will,” said Clinton Fairfield. 

Rand had left directions where he could be 
found, and an office boy was sent out with a note 
for him. 

Hooney was with Rand when the note was re- 
ceived. 

“ Wot’s dat yer got ? ” questioned Hooney with 
interest. 

“ Say, here’s a chance, Mike,” replied Rand. 
** A tip to come ter Tipton ter meet an old friend 
wot has struck it rich. Do yer know where Tip- 
ton is?” 

“ Yes, but I aint goin’ dere,” replied Hooney, 
who was afraid Paul might be in the neighbor- 
hood. 

But Rand argued, and finally Hooney con- 
sented to go if allowed to make a change in his 
appearance, which he effected by having his hair 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS DUMFOUNDED. 255 

cut, his mustache shaved off, and by getting Rand 
to buy him a new slouch hat. Rand told him 
they were sure of a good time, and that the friend 
would probably return to Boston with them. 

In the meantime Paul, Radley, and the lawyer 
had taken an earlier train to the county seat. A 
short while after arriving in Tipton they made 
their way to the surrogate's office. On the steps 
the young bandmaster met Roscoe, the manager 
of the local show hall. 

“ PIullo, Graham, are you back ! ” cried the 

manager. I thought you had " He 

stopped short. 

Thought I had gone for good, eh ? " laughed 
Paul. No, Pm back — for a few days, at 
least.” 

Then you've fixed up that little affair with 
your guardian ? ” went on Roscoe in the easy 
manner of many country people of this section. 

No, but it's going to be fixed,” answered Paul 
significantly. 

'' I hope he doesn't try to throw you in jail 
again now that he has his money.” 

‘‘ I don't think he will. If anybody goes to jail 
it will be Hiram Dunkirk and not I,” and with- 
out waiting for further words Paul followed his 
friends into the surrogate's office. 

The will which had been offered for probate by 
Hiram Dunkirk was soon produced. Barrett 


256 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


Radley scanned it with interest. Then he looked 
at Paul and the lawyer significantly. 

“ A forgery, sure enough,” he whispered. 

That is all,” answered the lawyer quietly. 

‘‘Is there something wrong?” questioned the 
surrogate. 

“ Very much wrong, sir,” answered Clinton 
Fairfield. “ You will know all the particulars in 
a few days. In the meantime do not let that will 
go out of your possession.” 

“ I will see that it doesn’t leave the safe. But 
you know the copy is on record.” 

“ Yes, but we want you to look after the 
original.” 

“ Very well.” 

The three were soon outside. The Stoneville 
sleigh, which had taken the place of the stage, was 
ready to start. 

“ Might as well go over to Stoneville at once,” 
said the lawyer. 

Just then Paul caught sight of Rand and 
Hooney standing upon the depot platform. 

“ There is Hooney ! Let us take him along ! ” 
he cried. 

“ We will ! ” answered Clinton Fairfield. 
“ Don’t let Hooney suspect Rand,” he added cau- 
tiously. 

They ran over to the platform together. 

“ So, Hooney, we meet again ! ” cried Paul, 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS DUMFOUNDED. 257 

and caught the fellow by the arm. At the same 
time the lawyer made a motion to Rand to go 
away. 

Lemme go ! howled the tough. He wanted 
to break away, but Paul and the lawyer held him. 
Then he looked around for his companion, but 
Rand had disappeared. 

Hooney felt much crestfallen, but brightened 
up when Paul told him he had nothing to fear if 
he would only go along and tell the truth and 
stick to it. 

'' All right, ril go,'' he answered, and after 
that they had no more trouble with him. 

The big sleigh was soon on the way. As they 
passed over the hills and through the hollows 
Paul pointed out to his companions where he had 
escaped from Miles Cross, the constable, and his 
guardian and Joel Burgess. 

“ What a lot has happened since then ! " he con- 
cluded, and closed his eyes for a moment to think 
it over. 

At Stoneville they left the stage and hired a 
private turnout. As they went on Paul turned to 
his friends. 

If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to have 
a little talk with Mr. Dunkirk before you put in an 
appearance," he said. I want to give him a 
chance to do the right thing, if there is any fair- 
ness left in him." 


258 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


The matter was easily arranged. It was 
agreed that the others should stop at a cottage 
near the Dunkirk homestead and they were not to 
come over until Paul showed a handkerchief at a 
certain window in the sitting room. 

This settled, the boy leaped to the ground and 
went ahead on foot. Five minutes later he was 
at the front door of the Dunkirk homestead. 
Margy Dunkirk admitted him. 

“ Back ag’in, are ye ! ” she cried shrilly. 

Well, they do say a bad penny is sure to turn up 
sooner or later. Go into the kitchen and brush 
the snow off your shoes. I aint a-goin’ tew have 
you dirtyin’ the whole house, mind that.” 

Who is that, Margy? ” came from the sitting 
room. 

“ It’s Paul Graham, the good-fer-nuthin’ ! ” 
was the reply, and then Paul heard the hasty fold- 
ing up of a number of papers and the slamming 
of a desk front. Before Hiram Dunkirk, how- 
ever, could leave the sitting room Paul was in 
the apartment. To relieve Mrs. Dunkirk’s 
anxiety he took off his rubbers and placed them 
in the wood-box. 

I knowed ye would come back,” said Hiram 
Dunkirk with a cold stare. That story about 
earnin’ sixty dollars a week was the wust false- 
hood I ever heerd tell on.” 

‘‘If you settle down here ag’in, Paul Graham, 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS DUMFOUNDED. 259 

you’ll have to tell the strict truth,” put in Margy. 
'‘If ye don’t you’ll git the broom, sure ez I’m a 
livin’ woman.” 

" I was always willing to tell the strict truth,” 
answered the youth. 

" Are ye willin’ to settle down an’ behave your- 
self ? ” asked Hiram Dunkirk. 

" I am willing to settle down, yes.” 

" An’ give up yer cornet playin’ an’ go to work 
for Joel Burgess ? ” 

Let us talk about that later, Mr. Dunkirk. 
Just now something was said about telling the 
strict truth. Are you willing to tell me the strict 
truth?” 

" Do you mean to insult me, boy? ” 

" I mean just what I said. I want the strict 
truth concerning my father’s property.” 

" I told ye that a dozen times before.” 

" You told me you had three hundred and forty 
dollars in the bank belonging to me.” 

" Jest so, that’s right.” 

“ And that is all ? ” 

“ That is all. The quarry company busted 
up, and I was lucky to git what I did.” 

" Mr. Dunkirk, who made out my father’s 
will ? ” 

" What do you want to know that for ? ” 

" Never mind — answer my question — if you 
are not afraid.” 


26 o 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


“ Do hear the boy ! ” gasped Mrs. Dunkirk. 

“Afraid? Why should I be? I writ it out 
for yer father, just as he told me to,” snapped 
Hiram Dunkirk. 

“ Who was there when you wrote it out? ” 

“ Eliza Dunwell.” 

“ Did my father make more than one will ? ” 

“ Of course not.” 

“ Who witnessed the will ? ” 

“ See here, I aint in court, Paul Graham. 
What’s the meanin’ of this talk, anyway ? ” 
howled Hiram Dunkirk savagely. 

“ He’s a-tryin’ to corner you, Hiram,” inter- 
posed Mrs. Dunkirk. “ Don’t you let him do it.” 

“If everything was straight you’d not object 
to answering my questions,” said Paul quietly, 
and drawing his handkerchief from his pocket he 
sauntered over to the window and held it in full 
view of the next house for several seconds. 

“ I asked who witnessed the will, that’s all.” 

“ Eliza Dun well and Barrett Radley.” 

“ And in that will you were sole executor of my 
father’s estate ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ And he left you one-third of his property in 
the bargain ? ” 

“ Yes. I didn’t want it, but he insisted on it, 
sayin’ I was his best friend. He thought more of 
me than his wayward son does,” and Hiram Dun- 


HIRAM DUNKIRK IS DUMFOUNDED. 261 

kirk tried to grow pathetic, and wiped his eyes, 
which were as dry as a bone. 

Mr. Dunkirk, you are a thorough scoundrel 
and a thief ! ” 

What ! Hiram Dunkirk leaped back as 
though shot, his eyes blazing furiously. “This 

. to me ! You rat— ril— Til ” 

“ Skin him, Hiram, skin him ! ” burst out Mrs. 
Dunkirk. “ Hold him till I git the blacksnake 
whip ! We’ll teach him manners ! ” 

“ That’s right, Margy, we will ! ” 

Hiram Dunkirk leaped forward, intent upon 
catching Paul by the throat, but the youth dodged 
him and ran out into the hallway. At that mo- 
ment came the tramping of feet upon the piazza. 

“ Stop, Paul Graham, stop ! ” snarled Hiram 
Dunkirk. “ Stop or never dare to set your foot 
again in this house ! ” 

He came after Paul as far as the door. The 
youth had just time in which to throw the bar- 
rier open when Dunkirk caught him by the shoul- 
der. 

“ Now I’ll thrash you within ” 

Hiram Dunkirk was going to say “ an inch of 
your life,” but the words died on his lips, and he 
staggered back and turned deadly pale. 

“ Barrett Radley ! ” he faltered in dumfounded 
tones. “ When — when did you git back from 
Africky?” 


262 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 


Only about a week ago/’ 

And — and what brought you here ? ” 

I am here to see justice done to Paul Gra- 
ham,” was the answer, which filled Hiram Dun- 
kirk with keen dismay. 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 


FAREWELL TO THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

“To see justice done?'' 

“ That is what I said, Hiram Dunkirk. Sup- 
posing we go in and talk this matter over." 

“ Were — were you outside waitin' for Paul ? " 

“ We were near by, yes." 

“ You imp, to deceive me ! " snarled Hiram 
Dunkirk, turning a look full of hatred upon the 
young bandmaster. 

“ Never mind, Hiram, we'll make it up to him," 
put in Mrs. Dunkirk significantly. 

“If you get the chance," murmured Paul. 

The whole party were soon in the sitting room. 
Hiram Dunkirk tried to get into the chair in front 
of his desk, but, struck with a sudden idea, Paul 
appropriated that seat. 

“ Let me sit there," said his guardian roughly. 
“ You sit down in the corner." 

“ I'll remain right here," answered the young 
bandmaster coolly, and then as Dunkirk reached 
forward to lock the desk Paul caught the key 
from the lock and slipped it into his pocket. 

263 


264 THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 

You rascal, give me that key ! ’’ 

I will — after we have come to terms.’’ 

“ I want the key at once.” 

“ Does the desk contain so much of impor- 
tance ? ” 

“ Never you mind about that,” snarled Dun- 
kirk. 

Perhaps it contains my father’s will,” went 
on the youth suggestively. 

The chance shot struck home. The wrinkled 
face of Hiram Dunkirk grew as white as a sheet. 

’Taint so ! ” he shrieked. '' Your father’s 
will is with the surrogate at Tipton.” 

'' Mr. Dunkirk,” put in Barrett Radley sternly, 

you know better than that.” 

'' Know better ! ” faltered Paul’s guardian. 

‘‘ Yes, better. You know that the will at Tip- 
ton is a base forgery.” 

Hiram Dunkirk fell back in consternation. He 
tried to support himself, then fell like a log into 
an easy chair. 

“ It aint no forgery ! ” burst in Mrs. Dunkirk. 
“ If you say it is, you ” 

“ Silence, woman, unless you want to go to 
prison with your husband,” interrupted Barrett 
Radley. 

“To prison!” moaned Hiram Dunkirk. His 
wife tried to echo the words, but failed. Both 
looked from Barrett Radley to Paul, then with 


FAREWELL TO THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 265 

the yell of a madman Hiram Dunkirk hurled him- 
self at the boy. 

But the move came too late. Unobserved, 
Paul had slipped the key into the desk and drawn 
down the cover. The mass of papers Hiram 
Dunkirk had been examining was disclosed, and 
on top of the heap rested — the true will of Maur- 
ice Graham! 

“ Give me that ! yelled Dunkirk, and made a 
clutch for the precious document. But Paul 
threw it over his head to Clinton Fairfield, and 
the lawyer and Barrett Radley began to ex- 
amine it. 

‘‘ This is the real document,” said the man from 
Africa. Here are the ink blotches, as you can 
see. 

“ In this will Anderson Powell and Hiram 
Dunkirk are made joint executors,” said Fairfield. 
‘‘ And Dunkirk gets nothing but what the law en- 
titles him to.” 

‘‘ It's a — a — plot ag’in me 1 ” gasped Hiram 
Dunkirk. “ It's a plot hatched out by Paul Gra- 
ham I ” 

It is no plot, Hiram Dunkirk,” said Clinton 
Fairfield quietly but firmly. “ We are after the 
truth and justice, that is all. The will on record 
is a forgery. This is the real will, as not only 
Mr. Radley, but also Eliza Dunwell can testify. 
Furthermore, we can prove that you tried to put 


266 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


Paul out of the way, for Mike Hooney is found, 
and we know just where to place our hands upon 
him.” 

As he concluded the lawyer tapped on a win- 
dow glass. In a second more Mike Hooney en- 
tered, in the custody of a neighbor. 

'' Hooney ! ” murmured Hiram Dunkirk, and 
the last drop of courage seemed to ooze from him. 
He tried to go on, then dropped beside the table 
and buried his face in his hands. Seeing this, 
Mrs. Dunkirk burst out into a flood of crocodile 
tears. 

Poor Hiram I Poor Hiram ! ” she wailed. 
“ An’ it’s all on account o’ that miserable good- 
fer-nuthin’ Paul Graham ! ” and she flopped into a 
chair in a corner. Then of a sudden she arose 
and caught Paul by the hand. ‘‘ Paul, Paul, 
don’t you be hard-hearted! Don’t you send my 
Hiram to — to — ^prison I He didn’t mean no 
harm ! He was goin’ to leave all his property to 
you when he died, anyway ! ” 

“ Mr. Dunkirk’s future rests with himself,” an- 
swered the youth. ‘‘ If he will square up ” 

** I will — I will ! ” came from the miserable 
man. “ I will do anything, only don’t send me 
to prison. Don’t bring sech a disgrace upon my 
remainin’ gray hairs ! ” 

‘‘ Then you acknowledge your wrongdoings ? ” 
questioned the lawyer. 


FAREWELL TO THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 267 

“ I might ez well — youVe hedged me in so ez I 
can’t turn. But I’ll square up with Paul — he 
shall have every penny ez is cornin’ to him.” 

‘‘If you’ll promise to do the right thing I’ll 
promise not to prosecute you,” said the young 
bandmaster, but not without considerable dis- 
gust. 

“ He ought to be sent up for forgery,” said 
Barrett Radley. “ However ” 

“ Don’t — don’t ! ” cried Hiram Dunkirk. “ I’ll 
give you everything I’ve got — everything — only 
let me off. Let me off this once, please ! ” 

And he almost groveled at the feet of those be- 
fore him. His defeat had been complete, and 
from that moment on Paul was master of the 
situation. 

Let us skip a period of two years. 

In the due course of time the young bandmas- 
ter came into possession of his own. The vari- 
ous properties which Hiram Dunkirk had been 
holding back footed up to a total of twenty-six 
thousand dollars — not a large fortune, to be sure, 
but still an amount that Paul considered well 
worth working for. As the youth was not yet 
twenty-one, Anderson Powell was appointed his 
nominal guardian until he should become of age. 

Paul was tender-hearted enough to forgive Hi- 
ram Dunkirk for his misdeeds, and after the tan- 


268 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


gle had been straightened out nothing was said 
by either Paul or the others about the affair. But 
the neighbors suspected something was wrong, 
and they questioned Mrs. Dunkirk, who in a fit of 
anger against Paul exposed both her husband 
and herself. 

This exposure brought on a quarrel between 
man and wife, and in high anger Mrs. Dunkirk 
went off to live with some relations. But they 
soon grew tired of her sharp tongue, and set her 
adrift to earn her own living, which she is doing 
to this day in the poorest and most miserable 
fashion imaginable. 

The exposure ruined Hiram Dunkirk abso- 
lutely. He was in debt in several places, and 
while he might have pulled through if given time, 
his creditors swarmed down upon him, and he 
was sold out at sheriff’s sale. He was too old to 
start life anew, and so drifted to the Stoneville 
poorhouse. At this place he still remains, and 
the only consolation he receives from time to time 
is a brief note from his former ward, inclosing a 
gift of money. The reception of this money 
oftentimes gives him some queer feelings. 

I don’t know but what I misjudged Paul most 
dreadfully,” he sniffled once. ‘‘ He wasn’t no 
bad sort, after all. I was a fool to try to do him 
out of what was his’n, but Margy put me up to’t, 
talkin’ every day about how nice we could live. 


FAREWELL TO THE YOUNG BANDMASTER, 269 

an’ what lovely carpets an’ furniture she could 
have! An’ now it’s all sold off, an’ here I am, 
an’ she — well, I reckon she’s wuss off — an’ I’m 
glad of it I ” and he heaved a mountainous sigh 
over the thought of what might have been. 

As soon as his affairs in America were settled 
up Barrett Radley returned to Africa, where he 
held large business interests in Cape Town. Paul 
went to see him off, and on parting presented the 
speculator with a handsome ring as a token of his 
regard. To this day the two correspond con- 
stantly. 

Mike Hooney has reformed. Paul studied 
the fellow and decided that there was the making 
of a man in him if rightly handled, and he took 
the tough under his care, and Hooney is now bag- 
gage manager for Graham’s Golden Cornet Band 
and Thompson’s Combination of International 
Stars. 

For Paul is now one of the heads of the organi- 
zation, having purchased the interest held by An- 
derson Powell. Of the stars, Horatio Calliwax 
is the head, with a reputation as an impersonator 
and funny man which is second to none. He 
draws a salary of a hundred dollars per week, and 
is worth every cent of it. Best of all, he and 
drink are utter strangers. 

As of yore, Paul leads the band and plays solos. 
He is famous, likewise, for having composed half 


270 


THE YOUNG BANDMASTER. 


a dozen stirring military marches and popular 
airs, and these have brought him in considerable 
cash. His organization is now making an ex- 
tended tour throughout the United States and 
Canada, and is already booked for the season at 
the next World's Fair, to be held at Paris. He 
is no longer poor and obscure, but rich and well 
known; and here, on the highway of success, we 
will shake him by the hand and bid him good-by. 



THE FAMOUS 

HENTY BOOKS 

The Boys^ Own Library 

I 2 m 0 f Qoth 

6. A. Henty has long held the field as tha 
most popular boys’ author. Age after age 
of heroic deeds has been the subject of his 

g en, and the knights of old seem very real in 
is pages. Always wholesome and manly, 
always heroic and of high ideals, his books 
are more than popular wherever the English 
language is spoken. 

Each volume is printed on excellent papei 
from new large-type plates, bound in cloth, 
assorted colors, with an attractive ink an^ 
gold stamp. Price 75 Cents. 


A Final Reckoning 

A Tale of Bush Life in Australia 
By England’s Aid 

The Freeing of the Netherlands 
By Right of Conquest 

A Tale of Cortez in Mexico 
Bravest of the Brave 

A Tale of Peterborough in Spain 
By Pike and Dyke 

The Rise of the Dutch Republic 
By Sheer Pluck 

A Tale of the Ashantee War 
Bonnie Prince Charlie 

A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden 
Captain Bayley’s Heir 
A Tale of the Gold Fields of California 
Cat of Bubastes 

A Story of Ancient Egypt 
Cornet of Horse 

A Tale of Marlborough’s Wars 
Facing Death 

A Tale of the Coal Mines 
Friends, though Divided 

A Tale of tne Civil War in England 
For Name and Fame 

A Tale of Afghan Warfare 
For the Temple 

A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem 
In Freedom’s Cause 

A Story of Wallace and Bruce 
In the Reign of Terror 
The Adventures of a Westminster Boy 
In Times of Peril A Tale of India 

i ack Archer A Tale of the Crimea 

.ion of St. Mark 

A Tate of Venice in the XIV. Century 


Lion of the North 

A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus 
Maori and Settler 

A Tale of the New Zealand War 
Orange and Green 

A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick 
One of the aSth 

A Tale of Waterloo 
Out on the Paisas 

A Tale of South Amerioa 
St. George for England 

A Tale of Cr^cy and PeietUrs 
True to the Old Flag 

A Tale of the Revolution 
The Young Colonists 

A Tale of the Zulu and Boer Wats 
The Dragon and the Raven 

A Talc of King Allred 
The Boy Kn^ht 

A Tale of the Crusades 
Through the Fray 

A Story of the Luddite Riots 
Under Drake’s Flag 

A Tale of the Spanish Main 
With Wolfe in Canada 

The Tale of Winning a Ceatiaeok 
With Clive in India 

The Beginning of an Empire 
With Lee in Virginia 

A Story of the American Civil Wrf 
Young Carthaginian^ 

A Story of the Times ef Hannihal 
Young Buglers 

A Tale of the Peninsular War 
Young Franc-Tireurs 

A Tale of the Fraaoo-Pmaaioa Waf 


•• THE MERSHON CDMPANY 

J56 Fifth Avenue, New York Rahway, N. J. 




FLAG OF FREEDOM SERIES 

By CAPTAIN RALPH BONEHUX 

Tliree Volumes, Illustrated, Bound In Cloth, with a very 
Attractive Cover, Price 31*00 Per Volume 


WHEN SANTIAGO FELL; or, Tfie War Adventures of 
Two Chums 

Captain Bonehill has never penned a better tale than this 
stirring story of adventures in Cuba. Two boys, an American 
and his Cuban chum, leave New York to join their parents in the 
interior of Cuba. The war between Spain and the Cubans is on, 
and the boys are detained at Santiago de Cuba, but escape by 
crossing the bay at night. Many adventures between the lines 
follow, and a good pen picture of General Garcia is given. The 
American lad, with others, is captured and cast into a dungeon 
in Santiago ; and then follows the never-to-be-forgotten campaign 
in Cuba under General Shatter. How the hero finally escapes 
makes reading no wide-awake boy will want to miss. 

A SAILOR BOY WITH DEWEY ; or. Afloat in the Philippines 

The story of Dewey’s victory in Manila Bay will never grow 
old, but here we have it told in a new form — not as those in com- 
mand witnessed the contest, but as it appeared to a real, live 
American youth who was in the navy at the time. Many ad- 
ventures in Manila and in the interior follow, giving true-to-life 
scenes from this remote portion of the globe, A book that 
should be in every boy’s library. 

OFF FOR HAWAII ; or. The Mystery of a Great Volcano 

Here we have fact and romance cleverly interwoven. Several 
boys start on a tour of the Hawaiian Islands. They have heard 
that there is a treasure located in the vicinity of Kilauea, tbd 
largest active volcano in the world, and go in search of it. 
Their numerous adventures will be followed with much interest. 


FBESS OPINIONS OF CAPTAIN BONEHILL’S BOOKS FOR BOYS 

•* Captain Bonehill’s stories will always be popular with our boys, for the reason 
that they are thoroughly up-to-date and true to life. As a writer of outdoor tales he 
has no rival.”— Br/g-A/ Days. 

** The story is by Captain Ralph Bonehill. and that is all that need be said about it 
for all of our readers know that the captain is one of America’s best story-tellers, s0 
far as stories for young people go .” — Young Peopl* of America. 

“The story is excellently told, and will please any intelligent boy into whose hands 
It may falL ” — Charleston iS. C.) News. 

** We understand that Captain Bonehill will soon be turning from sporting stories to 
tales of the war. This field is one ia which he should feel thoroughly at home. We art 
certain that the boys will look eagerly for the Bonehill war tales.” — Weekly Messenger, 

« THE MERSHON COMPANY 

, I5S Fifth Aveooc, New York Rahway, N. J. 


Mrs. L. T. Meade^s 

FAMOUS BOOKS 
FOR GIRLS 


There are few more favorite au- 
thors with American girls than Mrs. 

L. T. Meade, whose copyright works 
can only be had from us. Essentially 
a writer for the home, with the lof- 
tiest aims and purest sentiments, 

Mrs. Meade’s books possess the merit 
of utility as well as the means of amusement. They are girlaf 
books— written for girls, and fitted for every home. 

Here will be found no maudlin nonsense as to the affections. 
There are no counts in disguise nor castles in Spain. It is pure 
and wholesome literature of a high order with a lofty ideal. 

The volumes are all copyright, excellently printed with clear* 
open type, uniformly bound in best cloth, with ink and gold 
stamp. i2mo, price $i.oo 



THE FOLLOWING ARE THE TITLES 


The Children of Wilton Chase 
Bashful Fifteen 
Betty: A Schoolgirl 
Four on an Island 
Girls New and Old 
Out of the Fashion 
The Palace Beautiful 
Polly, a New-Fashioned Git! 
Rose and Tiger Lily 


A Ring of Rubies 
A Sweet Girl Graduate 
A World of Girls 
Good Luck 

A Girl in Ten Thousand 
A Young Mutineer 
Wild Kitty 

The O^dren^s Pilgrimage 
The Girls of St* Wode^a 


•» THE MERSHON COMPANY 

156 Ftth Avew New York Rakway, N. % 



Edward S. Ellis 

POPULAR 
BOYS' BOOKS 

l2mo, Qoth 

Purely American in scene, plot 
motives, and characters, the copy- 
right works of Edward S. Ellis 
have been deservedly popular 
with the youth of America. In a 
communi^ where every native- 
born boy can aspire to the highest offices, such a book as Ellis’ 
“From the Throttle to the President’s Chair,” detailing the 
progress of the sturdy son of the people from locomotive en^- 
gineer to the presidency of a great railroad, must always to 
popular. The youth of the land which boasts of a Vanderbilt 
will ever desire such books, and naturally will desire stories of 
their native land before wandering over foreign climes. 

The volumes of this series are all copyright, printed from 
large, new type, on good paper, and are handsomely bound in 
cloth, stamped with appropriate designs. Price $i.oo. 

THE FOLLOWING COMPRISE THE TITLES 
Down the Mississippi 

From the Throttle to the Presidents Chair 
Up the Tapajos 

Tad; or^ "Getting: Even" with Him 
Lost in Samoa 

Lost in the Wilds 
Red Plume 

A Waif of the Mountain 


w THE MERSHON COMPANY 

156 Avc^ New York Rahway^ N# ^ 

H43 86 



« 



r 








I 





V 




« 


A 








•r ^ 

• > 




ir' 


» 


« 


f 




• r * ^ • *' 

». . ■ 

• 1 * 

• * 

V 


4 > 




/ • ' 

V » 

t « 


• •^ * 


' • 
' • 


I . 


« » 
* 


t T 


* 


« 




• « 


k t 


* s. 


• « 




• «» 

V 

A 




& 


t? 


•>« ^ 

% ' 


r 7 

4 

:• t 





r 


< • 


J 


J 

1 


• > 


0 

/ 

I 

* 

\ 


- . :-^ A - .,-J 


• • 

* 


• » 



‘f 


V 


I 

tr 


■ t 
• . 

< ' * ’ 


V . 

/ 


V* - 


: « • 




<# 


* ., - 




i‘ 






? 




■•r 




^ • 


» 


( 


4 


% 


4 





r 



> L « 




. , ’>•1* 
• ^ 






4 





t 


• • 


♦> 



■ 


I 



■** » 
% • 





i t 

• t • 



A 




I * 


\ 


r 




\r »• 





t » 











I 


1 




t 

i 


■ < 


I 


( 




I 










r 


« 





f 


I 


I 


• ■ 


r. 


» ♦ 


k 






» < 
s 


« ? 4 

y V 

/ 





<* 

4 *.' * 

> i > .»< 





> 


« 


f 


» 


% 





I « 











4 .•■ 



t 



ifr'; 



t • 








I-* 


' ^ 


/ 


V 


1 


ft 




• • 



V * . -' . 

ft ■ ft 

t 

• ' t ' • . 







4 . 





^ •• 



4 









« 












, .4'^' 




. I 

f. 






t- . 



% 


% 



* 




■\ 





;>x 


i- 


1 1 




i* 


* ^ ^ U*'- '• • . i 

S '■% .* ^ ^ « 

i VT I 

M 




>• 




.; - • ''■ 
I 

* 

I 


I 


0 T 




* r .r' 


^ . 






'■■ . ■'!’ . ti- : 





• ^ 


*r 




. * 


f 


4 . 


* - 

IWT ^rsr 











» • 


- 



4 »'.V ^ 


7-. •'^ • *’^. ■ 

Ula ei - ; .i ■ M' 




^ > 


. . ' ^ <7 Ik. i>V.r^ '_V 4. 



» i 



^ i^«:>^. *v- f 

o U 



WPP ■ '’■■i-r'A-rvi'" 

TiTv ■ 7 '* 'S- ^ 




•v v.^ 


i:>*.v;- f ■,'^‘ .1,, »S !iiguv^»:X .^^'•.'r;^‘?.i:“i 

3 P 1 .• ••...* ‘ ' ■ Bnn^ A..,« 


’ • I ‘ • » . » I I ^h- 

■ ■■•*J ' * :*i ’’ ■ 

VI - ' ^ * • ’ # V -“? 

•' ' 1 «F^ ; 

^ -r ‘HP" 

T* * .* Jv . 




■^k 
i 4 ■• 

% 

«. ..- :'C i^WM ' v'V>. . v .,'■ -r' .,r 

li^, , ■».'■. •• . ".ik ^ ^nlk'vv , ^;‘'r ; 




' 4 *■1 


v* 









■t*^ ■ V| 

.1 

>.l> 






I 





tl 


% 

9 













N I 








\ 








V o 


< 0 ^ 





^ ^•/l* O *0.0’ .0 ^ 




1 ^ 


« 

* ^ ^ a 



o. '‘^„Vo'» - 0 ' 


, 0 ' 


I* ♦ 

V 'V ^ •- 

A <. '"^T'/*’ 

<^'’ f.o»o^ ^ 

^ ’Kti V ^ 

• 0 ^ 


-...‘ . 0 ^ \, '» 

, '^-f. , 0 ^ o. 

• <0 • 

> ^ ^ *" 

• <?.^ % *”«•>,’ * 0 ' 

V * ^ JlV ^ 

V «■ ^ A 

"oWMm- 

•% ^y 4 'v ^ 

A» ^ t # tf ^ ® ^ ® 


<* *$*\ < 1 

°. 


'^ov^ - 






-^» <<» •* 


O H O 


jO vV 


* V 


c* *>-. ,V ♦ 


lO" 




o 

c.S'^ 

V ^y ' 5 >^ ^ , 

'A '^ '» • > • .A <. '-'T’.'i ‘ .& 


- > .V 

y> Vs 

o ^ A 

°. 




"TLn >. 




P. 

' ^ y<V v> 


^o (0 ^ A c 

% *' 0,0 ,0 ^ A^ 

* ^ ♦ !. * ®'' Vs L*rL'‘* 


Si : V • 


,‘ 4 .^ 


°. : 

“ .5^% » 


^ .V • 


A' r. 0 » O^ 


(,' -o '«,. 

" '^Ao« -w-.-s 


V 0 « o . 


O V^ 


£» ‘ . 

4 V 




0. ,0^ '#*^ 


oo> '^00 





O'. ® 

^ o 

• 

' • ^ o ® " ® -9 ’ * * rk'^'" . I » • ^ 





• 0 * 

•»’ ^.0 % .'ft 

^ -AWAo 



: ^^-'^'V 'o 

<?*i 


-A*^^ ^ '» . . * <'• 

qV <*0 ^‘^ 

". 0 « - 



6^ 

..•• ./ ... v ^ A »^ ,.. V- 



*' • / 1 • .“ft 



